


Sic Semper Tyrannis

by Jessica314



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Backstory, Gen, Historical References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 96,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25614127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessica314/pseuds/Jessica314
Summary: AU splitting from canon in late 1941. Soon after Peter and Charlotte help him break free from Maria's lies, Jasper heads straight to the Volturi to offer his assistance in ending the Southern Wars. Instead he is pulled into a dangerous new world he does not understand. Will Alice's visions of their happy, peaceful future together ever come true, or are they lost forever?
Relationships: Afton/Chelsea (Twilight), Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale, Aro/Sulpicia (Twilight), Carlisle Cullen/Esme Cullen, Charlotte/Peter (Twilight), Emmett Cullen/Rosalie Hale
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14
Collections: Twilight FanFiction





	1. Hatred

**Welcome to my first really AU story! I've never ventured far from canon before, so this will be a real adventure. This story does begin in canon, and splits away (realistically, I hope) in the fourth chapter, a few days after Peter helps Jasper escape Maria and the Southern Wars. This is an AU scenario that I've been thinking about for a while, and I hope you enjoy the journey with me.**

**Many, many thanks to all of you who have been helping me sort out the beginnings of this story, particularly Kyilliki and Haemophilus Leona. You guys are the best!**

**Disclaimer: The Twilight Saga and its universe belong to Stephenie Meyer. No profit is made here and no offense intended.**

* * *

**Late 1941**

**Central Mexico, the middle of nowhere**

**Midnight**

**Jasper POV**

* * *

A line of statues stood poised along the ridge of the far side of the canyon, their bared teeth gleaming in the moonlight: the Guatemala Coven. I counted nine, only two of which I recognized, though it was possible that more were hidden in reserve. The seven I didn't recognize all had the brilliant red eyes of well-fed newborns.

I didn't know the name of the one veteran, though I had met him in battle twice before. The other was the leader, and he went only by the name of El Serpiente. I had a feeling his human mother hadn't actually named her darling baby "Snake", but she might as well have. He had assassinated his creator twenty-three years ago, seizing control of the coven, and since then had proven a deadly enemy. His method was snake-like indeed, relying not on numbers but on his strategy of lightning-strike attacks and rapid retreats. The borders of his territory were more fluid than most. El Serpiente was cunning enough to give ground when he felt threatened, only to return in force and strike when his enemy was settled and spread thin. The fact that he had come to meet us in open battle tonight meant one of two things: he was desperate and felt he had no choice but to gamble for a significant land victory, or this was a trap. I preferred the first scenario, but it would be foolish to assume anything but the second. I turned to Juan, who stood at my right.

"They have others in reserve," I said quietly. "Probably over that east ridge. Pick four that can stay quiet and have them be ready a quarter mile off that way." Juan nodded and melted away into the shadows. I watched him for a moment, assessing his mood and waiting to see which four he selected, and then turned back to survey the remaining ten soldiers who stood waiting for my command.

They were afraid. That was nothing new, but it was unusual for us to have newborns of so many different ages. The Guatemalans had kept us busy this year, obliging Maria to create new soldiers more often than she liked. We generally stuck to twice a year, so that we always had a wilder, stronger bunch and a more civilized bunch going at once. It had been one of the few ideas of mine that she had actually listened to, but it was plain common sense. You didn't leave yourself vulnerable by having a month where your entire army was new and wild and unpredictable. But this- having newborns at so many stages- was a mess. Their emotions were all over the place: rabid fear, anger, despair, excitement, wariness, the agitation of frantic thirst… I closed my eyes, letting the turbulence burn through me and focusing it until I had control of _myself_. Then I redirected my calm outward, infusing everyone with it. Some of the older ones settled quickly, their fear turning to focus. The newer ones were harder to influence, but seemed to gain some confidence as they saw the others settle.

"Forward to the edge, and then stop," I ordered. We drifted to the edge, our postures now matching the enemy's… maybe a hundred yards away. I could just barely feel them now: a quiet haze of anger and fear. Juan silently rejoined us. Lily, one of our newest, inched forward of the rest of us, vibrating with excitement. I saw El Serpiente's eyes glint with readiness and he raised his hand halfway. His army leaned forward, ready to spring.

"Lily," I hissed in warning, focusing another wave of calm her way. She drew back.

A few more minutes passed with little change. Neither of us wanted to engage first; that meant either getting caught in the canyon and fighting uphill, or going the long way around and wasting the crucial first edge of battle rage. El Serpiente was having some trouble with his newborns. I waited to see how far his control over them would deteriorate. I could outlast him in this way; my army was larger but they were better trained.

Somewhat.

Another ten minutes. The tension was rising fast now, across the canyon; El Serpiente was shouting for his soldiers to stay together. Two of them seemed to be losing their nerve, and some of the others kept inching in various directions, unable to stand still as their anticipation and fear mounted.

"That's why we're the better army," I announced, just loud enough for all of my soldiers to hear. "Look at them- undisciplined, unorganized… they'll fall apart as soon as we hit them. Lily, I want you on that girl with the blue dress. Noah, that male who the leader is shouting at right now- that one. He's agitated, so go at him slowly. Raul…" I went on, speaking in a monotone murmur that lulled them into confidence. I began slowly ramping up their courage, both with my words and my gift. Half the battle was saying the right thing, distracting their agitation with assignments and details. I wished I could coordinate something more complicated than giving each soldier someone to focus on, but experience had taught me that they just couldn't handle it. Despite the edge that my gift and careful training gave them, they were still newborns. At least the standoff was going well. Forcing themselves to stand still under pressure was one of the skills I had actually managed to drill into them.

I turned to Juan once my speech was finished. "Did you smell anyone?" He shrugged. "Yes or no?" I asked in irritation.

"I thought I smelled three extra, but it might have just been some of the main bunch, scouting off to the side when they approached earlier."

I ground my teeth, nodding and turning my attention back to the standoff. Juan was old enough by now to tell a fresh scent from an hours-old scent. We would need to work on that, if I didn't lose him tonight. He was ten months old now, due soon to be eliminated. But I wanted to keep him, as my second like Peter had been; if tonight went well, I would broach the subject with Maria when we reported back. I glanced over my shoulder at the hills behind us, silently cursing her once again for her cowardice. Would it kill her, just _once_ , to stand with her own army? She would be watching, as always, but from a safe distance.

I turned back to my soldiers, noticing that two were getting more afraid. I scrambled to ease their fear; the battle would start in a moment. El Serpiente had his hand over his mouth, which meant he was probably giving some orders that he felt needed to be kept secret; another sign that he had an ambush planned. I made my decision quickly.

"We approach now, along the east ridge," I whispered. "Don't run until I give the signal." One of the older females started to whimper, her feet refusing to move. I pushed her along, focusing the full power of my gift through my hand on her back. _Courage_ , I thought angrily. I had to drag her a few steps, but she soon began to move on her own.

El Serpiente began shouting orders in Spanish. They all turned to face us, but they weren't our targets, not yet. I could already smell the three that Juan had reported. I could hear their frantic footsteps retreating as we quickly approached the trap and confused their plan. "Three ahead," I said briskly, adding a sharp surge of anger to my influence. "All run, _NOW_!"

The chaos of battle began. I hurled as much fear and despair as I could at the three targets, but my gift would be of little use after this. The emotions of battle were complex and crowded, and shifted much too fast for my gift to keep up. Even if they weren't, I'd be too busy fighting for my life to concentrate effectively. We broke out of the brush snarling, and the three vampires that were supposed to ambush us found themselves backed up to the edge. I couldn't have planned it better myself.

"Don't fight them!" I called out. "Push them off and engage the main group!" We hit them en masse, Juan and I at the front. I shouted in warning too late as Juan leapt, snarling, at the biggest of the three. Idiot! They both tumbled off the edge together. I dropped and rolled at the last second, biting deeply onto the lower leg of the nearest target and throwing him off balance long enough to kick him right off the edge. I let the others handle the third as we turned to face the main group, who were running to meet us now. "Let them come to us!" I called out, knowing they wouldn't listen. My soldiers, notorious for being well-organized and disciplined, had turned into a raging horde of mindless children. It was the same every time; if I was lucky, a tenth of everything I had taught them would stay with them as instinct. At least two of them looked like they were going for the targets I had assigned them; that was something.

The enemy reached us. The air was filled with the frightening clamor of rock on rock as we all collided and tangled together. Emotions sizzled and flipped and shot through me, but it was actually easier to deal with, now that it was all a garbled mix. El Serpiente's veteran came straight for me, as I thought he would. I jumped as he dove for me, landing a nice kick on his face as I swatted down toward another soldier with a clawed hand. I landed and felt a sharp pain on my left forearm; I spared only a second to bring my knee up into whoever's face was there and yank my hand away. It was too crowded now, bodies and teeth and scents and emotions, to even see who had bit me. I felt someone pushing against my back and felt a hand tearing at the back of my shirt, but I was too busy with the veteran. We crashed together again, my teeth straining for his shoulder. I felt his breath on my exposed neck and felt a surge of my own panic; I couldn't pull away at the moment. I pushed forward harder instead, so that when his bite came it was on my upper arm instead of my neck. I was high enough to bite through the tendons on the top of his shoulder now; I tore deep and retreated, pleased to see his arm suddenly go limp. Another fighting pair surged between us and we lost each other for the moment.

I spared a tenth of a second to look around, worried to see that our four extra hadn't engaged. The numbers were close without them, too close. My nose twitched and my instincts quivered; someone had started a fire on the eastern ledge of the canyon. Several feet to its left, Juan had his hands full tearing an arm off his opponent. At least he had made it up out of the canyon alive; that was truly impressive, considering he had been down alone in there with three of the enemy. I wondered how many of them had made it back up. I anxiously scanned the night around us, looking for my four, but I was already being attacked again, this time by a pair fighting in tandem. Probably mated, judging by how close they kept one another. Good.

I lashed out at the female first, grabbed her skinny forearm, and broke it away before she could react. I threw it right at her mate, who screamed in wild fury but broke off his attack for half a second, seeming torn between giving the female her arm back and killing me. It was all I needed; I spun around him, biting deep into the back of his neck and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He finally dropped the arm, struggling uselessly to bite at my arms while his mate attacked me from the side. I dropped one arm and spun him around with the other, snapping the arm off with the momentum as I simultaneously feinted a bite at the female's face. She checked her attack long enough for me to get between them. I launched myself into the tight space and kicked out, separating them long enough to attack her again on her dismembered side. I grabbed under her chin and wrenched as I bit, flinging her head toward the fire just as her mate hit me. He went completely insane, shrieking and diving past me to catch his mate's body as it collapsed.

 _"Emma_ _!"_ he cried out. I stumbled over my feet for half a second, paralyzed as his frantic grief stabbed through me. I drew in a deep, sharp breath, willing my gift to focus outward, on the tangled, more neutral mess of emotion surrounding me. It was easy after that; he didn't even protest as I hauled him up by his good arm and tore his head off. I threw it into the fire and spun around in a circle to see what was next. But before I could complete the turn a fist crashed into my face and the night sky was swirling around in front of my eyes. There was a sharp pain and a heavy weight at the back of my knee. I let my body continue to spin, focusing on bringing my other foot toward the pain. I felt something solid and kicked hard; I was rewarded with a feminine yelp and a tearing pain down the side of my leg as whoever's teeth it was tore away.

I landed hard on my side, rolling out of the way of Juan's fight; he was battling El Serpiente himself. I gathered myself to pounce on them, but saw that Miguel was already coming to help, so I shifted my weight and sprang off toward the left instead. Noah, one of my newest, was faring badly against his opponent. He couldn't have been more than fourteen years old, tall but weak and skittish; why Maria had changed him was beyond me. A chunk was missing out of his face and his left leg was gone at the knee; by the time I reached them the enemy had him on his back, hands on his throat. I paused, waiting until he moved his head down to bite, and then I struck. I pulled the headless body off Noah and busied myself tearing the limbs off while he shakily got up onto his hands and knees. He was looking away toward the hills, filled with fear and a rising determination.

I dropped the writhing half-body and darted over to him, hauling him up by the neck with one hand. My face was an inch from his wide eyes. "Don't even _think_ about it," I hissed, digging into his throat with my nails and lifting his one remaining foot off the ground. "If you desert, I'll find you and I'll kill you myself. I'll do it slowly. You'll _wish_ you had died in battle." He closed his eyes and froze in my hands, paralyzed with fear. I dragged him over to where a girl was crouched, hissing and dodging the fights going on around her. "That one," I yelled in his ear, so angry that I couldn't gather my gift to help his fear. "You don't need both your legs to kill something that little. Go. _GO_!" I released him and shoved him toward the girl so hard that he collided headfirst with her. She shrieked and bit him right in the face. It was just what he needed, it looked like; he screamed and began to fight with a new, impressive rage.

I turned around, relieved to see that our extra four had finally joined the battle, shifting the emotional balance in the air toward excitement. I scanned the writhing mass of vampires around me, judging that we were doing well. Three of the nearest fights were already going our way, and so I broke out of the mayhem to survey things from the outside for a moment. El Serpiente had also broken away from the fight; for a moment, our eyes locked and I felt the thrill of fear and exhilaration at a _real_ challenge. I leaned forward, silently daring him to attack, but after a moment of posturing he turned and ran. I ached to go after him, but my duty was with my army. I barreled my way back into the fight, doing my best to keep my own soldiers focused and brave, dishing out fear when I had the time to focus long enough on a particular of the Guatemalans. The ache in my throat grew as the emotional barrage wore on. It was always like this for me in battle; vampires weren't capable of exhausting themselves, at least not physically. But the constant, extreme exertion of my gift always took its toll, manifesting as a throbbing need for blood and solitude. Soon, I promised myself wearily.

I dispatched another of their bigger soldiers and then stood back out of the fight altogether, watching how my newborns handled themselves as the balance began to tip dramatically in their favor. There were two big fighters left: the veteran, whose arm was working again, and another one. I watched as first one, then the other, was pulled down by my remaining eight able-bodied newborns swarming upon them. I grimaced as the emotional balance of the fight shifted again, this time to glee and savage pleasure. Most of my soldiers had realized we had the victory and were enjoying themselves as they tore their few remaining enemies apart piece by piece, inflicting more pain than was necessary.

I backed away, eager to put some distance between myself and the disturbing emotions of my army and their panicked, despairing victims.

"Don't let it get out of hand," a hard voice snapped behind me.

I didn't bother to turn around and acknowledge her. I merely ground my teeth and stepped forward again, reluctantly pushing my way back into the oppressive cloud of hate. Maria was right, of course; aside from the prospect of actually losing a battle, this was the most dangerous time. Once a crowd of energetic newborns got themselves going with the hate and the rage and the exhilaration of violence, they often couldn't stop themselves. Once they ran out of enemies, they had a tendency to turn on each other. Or on their leaders.

It took me a few moments to bring everyone down a notch. Once it was safe, I strode into the mess of newborns and bodies and limbs and ash, to where Juan and Manuel were finishing off the veteran. Juan finally stood, waiting for Maria's command, or mine.

I looked around, waiting until I had everyone's attention. "You did well." I locked eyes with Noah, who was surprisingly still alive and busy reuniting his leg with his thigh. I was still angry at his weakness but pleased with his performance at the end of the battle. I could give him this, at least. "All of you," I said meaningfully. I held his gaze another moment, instilling him with pride. Finally I released him and glanced around at the others again. "Don't burn anything more until you've all found your missing parts. Help each other clean out any bites that aren't healing. "

The grim cleanup began. I silently took the veteran's head from Juan's hands, hoping to get some information if I could reunite it with his torso. But I felt nothing from him; too much had already been burned for him to be any use. I chucked the head into the fire, turning to take a final survey of our own damage.

Lily was gone. All that remained was one of her feet, twitching randomly on the ground. Raul was nowhere to be seen or smelled. Most everyone had taken some sort of damage, though most of it was either negligible or reversible. Keeping my eyes trained on the others as they worked, I twisted my left forearm up to my mouth, sucking the venom out of the bite and spitting it out on the ground. I'd get to the knee later; there were others hurting more than I was. I went around, showing the inexperienced ones how to reattach fingers and such, bolstering confidence and easing anger, helping clean out bites that their owners couldn't reach.

I felt Maria's eyes and apprehension on me. She was waiting for me to say something more, to rally everyone in their victory they way I used to. Back in my first decades, when I was high on blood and victory and her approval, I used to speak more to the newborns on these occasions: heartfelt, inspiring speeches that would burn their hearts with zeal and purpose, and pride… precious pride. But I rarely bothered anymore. What was the point? They'd all be dead in a matter of months, one way or another. And this was just a defensive victory; we'd merely reasserted control over a dry patch of land and a few measly villages, long ago stolen from the clutches of the Guatemalans. Which was the exact _opposite_ of where we were supposed to be fighting. Arizona was the goal, always Arizona; their leader, Lorenzo, had killed Maria's mate once upon a time. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was stalling.

But that was the world we lived in: a planet-wide eternal War, thousands of covens frozen in place because they were locked in battle on every side. True conquest was rare anymore, Maria had told me when I was new; most battles were fought to keep what had been gained when the human grandparents of today's coven leaders hadn't even been born yet. We inched toward Arizona, but we spent most of our time guarding our backs. Keeping control of the bloodfields necessary to sustain our army, larger than most, was a full-time job.

"A victory," I announced unnecessarily; she had watched the whole thing. "A decisive victory. They had an ambush waiting near the canyon, as we suspected, but we beat them to it. They lost six, at least." It was always a tricky business, counting enemy parts to try and guess how many we had truly killed- especially when a fire was already going and had already consumed some. I had seen, out of the corner of my eye, at least two others turn and run, besides El Serpiente. It was possible that Lily had deserted too, limping away when my back had been turned. If she had, she wouldn't last long without that foot. She'd be picked up by the patrols of whichever direction she ran and killed on the spot as a worthless invalid… or used as cannon fodder in the next battle. Good luck to her. I picked up her twitching foot and tossed it into the flames.

"El Serpiente?"

"Ran off."

Maria spat an oath, scanning the hills around us with fury in her red eyes. Her hate surged, filling me like a black smoke. I extended the very lightest touch of calm towards her; I was not permitted to tamper with Maria's emotions unless she ordered me to do so. I took care to keep my eyes away from her, very slowly ramping up my influence.

"Well done!" Maria called out, forcing her features into an unnatural smile. "We feast tonight!" Everyone broke out in grins and cheers and hungry chatter. That was really the only speech they wanted to hear, anyway. I closed my eyes and sighed in relief, eagerly taking in the positive change in my emotional environment. But it was short-lived; Maria's hate would be satisfied. "But first we have one unpleasant matter to attend to."

Instant quiet… instant fear. I flinched as it hit me; no matter how many decades I existed in this sea of negative emotions, I would never get used to it. I ached for numbness, for peace, but it would never come.

"As I said," Maria continued, "you did well- this was an important victory. You'll feed tonight on one of the villages that we kept- that we rescued, once again, from the greedy teeth of the Guatemalans. But we lost two tonight, and the worst part of it was that _it didn't need to happen_. I waited, and _waited_ for you four to engage! What took you so long?!" The four who Juan had set aside in reserve froze as Maria fixed her rage on them. "You!" she shouted, pointing at Louis. "Answer me!"

So that was it: she wanted Louis executed tonight. I had expected it would come soon: he was the last survivor of last year's April batch and long overdue at fifteen months. She had been hoping he would be killed in the battle tonight, so she was using this as her excuse instead. It was one of the things about Maria's method that infuriated me, and she knew it. Honor aside, if a soldier survives that many battles, it's for a reason. Why waste a good fighter just because his newborn strength has waned? He had earned his right to stay alive, to fight another day. But it would do no good to protest; Maria didn't take kindly to me questioning her in front of the others.

Not kindly at all.

"We weren't sure when we were supposed to join the fight," Louis mumbled, keeping his eyes down in submission. But I could feel his fear… his boiling rage. This execution would not be easy, emotionally at least. "Juan told us to wait because the enemy had three in reserve. We thought we were supposed to engage them, but the others did instead."

"So you thought you were excused from the rest of the battle. A free pass to sit and watch the show, is that it?!" Maria hissed, inching toward him. I knew my duty. I moved further away from Maria, slowly coming at him from the side.

"We fought!" Louis protested, his eyes wide as he saw my movement, and the blankness in my expression. I hated this moment, when I could feel the shock and betrayal of those who had thought I was on their side, despite my harshness in training. He crouched slightly, ready for anything. I did what I could, tiredly giving him all the apathy I could muster. For both our sakes.

Apathy was easy these days.

"Once you saw that victory was assured," Maria accused.

"No! Maria, we… tell her, Jasper! We were waiting for the other three to-"

Maria struck, and I flashed into place as well. It wasn't a fight; it was a slaughter, right in front of the wide eyes of our army. Louis didn't even have time to scream before his throat was separated from his lungs. The fire blazed, its purple smoke billowing larger. It took all my effort not to double over with the emotions that Louis had left me with… but I would not give Maria that satisfaction. More importantly, I could never, never show weakness in front of my soldiers. I trembled only slightly, my expression and posture giving nothing away. The other three who had been accused drew tighter together in fear, their own little army, ready to face Maria's wrath… and mine. They had already been afraid of me before this; I didn't look forward to the extra fear every time I walked up to someone from now on.

At least she was done killing for now. Her rage had been appeased with its offering, and her spirit lifted. "Now that that's over," she said calmly, "Who's thirsty?"

The emotional heaviness eased again, though the fear remained this time. Maria and I handed out instructions as we approached the village as a group. We didn't normally take the whole bunch this close to human civilization, but they had earned the right to be trusted like this, and I told them so. Maria made it painfully clear, however, that anyone caught venturing beyond the row of hovels and cottages we specified would be dealt with severely. We finally released them to feed, and stood alone watching them go. I turned to face her.

"That was—"

"Save it," she snapped, and I shut my mouth. I didn't know why I even bothered anymore. I scowled down at her instead, letting my disapproval speak for itself. She returned my glare and wore her contempt openly, letting it sharpen the dark, sculpted perfection of the face that my fingers knew so well. Maria was beautiful, if a beautiful mask atop such an ugly spirit could be called beauty. She was free of scars, at least—a testament to her cowardice more than anything else. She always stood back and watched while everyone else spent their lives on her behalf. And tonight's execution was a typical example of how everything she thought and did… everything she made _me_ do just went beyond dishonorable. _Honor_ , I thought caustically. I didn't even remember what the word meant anymore. It was better that I didn't.

"So," she began, a fine black eyebrow lifting delicately. "What's this about Juan giving orders?"

I waited, assessing her mood. Apprehension… suspicion. It was best left for another day, but it was too late for that now. "I've been trying him out. He's intelligent, relatively patient, he has the respect of the others, and he has good instincts." Maria gave me an incredulous look. "Sometimes," I allowed.

"So?"

"So I want to keep him."

"No."

"I need a second again."

"Why?" Her suspicion grew. I would need to tread lightly here; things hadn't been the same between us since Peter's desertion, and my subsequent "treason", as she put it. My crime was letting him and Charlotte go. Hardly a mercy, considering what had no doubt happened to them within hours of their escape. I still didn't know why I had done it. It was shock, more than anything, that kept me from pursuing them. How I had missed their developing feelings for one another was truly a mystery, but it was more than that. I discovered, in those milliseconds it took me to realize what they were doing, that I couldn't bring myself to hurt Peter, and that meant not hurting Charlotte.

I had long since let go of seeing these people as anything but tools; it was the only way to keep my own sanity. But I had become attached to Peter, had come to depend on him… _friendship_ was no longer a word that belonged in my mouth, or my heart, but it was something like that. Charlotte was important to him, had somehow come to mean more than his own life. It was a phenomenon I had witnessed only a few times—and like with the pair I had fought tonight, I was often the one to put an end to it. But I realized, in those milliseconds, that I couldn't do that to Peter. What he was doing was suicide, but I had to give him that right. I had to let him die in the way that seemed best to him, not the way that was waiting for him, or at least for Charlotte, back at our camp.

But Maria hadn't seen it that way. All she had seen was that I had betrayed her with my inaction, and it scared her. She was too afraid to lose me, but too angry to back me up. But it was more than that: I had, after long years of obedience, broken her trust. I had _hurt_ her. I could feel her sense of betrayal, her wounded fury. That fact alone was enough to make it worth it. Even when she called the other newborns to swarm on me and I knew I was dead, it was worth it. Even when she spared me and settled for badly scarring me, for nearly two months of acidic, physical pain as her venom ate deeper into my back, it was still worth it.

It was worth it because ever since that day, Maria had never touched me again. That day spelled at abrupt end to what Maria, in her cruel, beguiling way, had called _our romance_. I hadn't just betrayed her as her second-in-command; I had chosen Peter, and his love for Charlotte, over the pathetic imitation of love that I shared with _her_ for nearly eighty years. I had never really enjoyed it, and neither had she. But sometimes even people as heartless as Maria will do things they hate in order to take something they think they need. And sometimes, men who used to believe that they lived by a code of honor will do things they despise in order to survive… to prove to themselves just how fully that honor had been driven away.

"Just listen to me for minute, if you can manage that," I began scathingly. This was no time to act calm, even if I could have; her suspicion would double instantly if she thought I was playing any kind of role. Her eyes narrowed, but she waited. "How many soldiers do we have right now, counting myself and minus the two we lost tonight, _and_ Louis? Twelve. How many did we have when we had Peter to help keep things in order? Do the math."

"I'll make more soon."

"And who's going to manage them? I have my hands full already with this mix-matched bunch, created at what, _six_ different times?! I can't train them nearly as much as I need to, what with the new ones needing constant attention and all the border patrols we have to keep up with. You saw how they fell apart in the battle tonight! And since you're not willing to get your hands dirty—"

She slapped me so hard I felt something crack in the back of my neck. Two fingers went numb, but I didn't even acknowledge the interruption. "—then what am I supposed to do? You can't manage this big of an army without another veteran, not effectively. To say nothing of getting back up to the numbers we had back when Peter was here. If you would—"

"If you say that name again, I'll tear you apart!"

"Go ahead," I growled. "You'd be doing me a favor!"

Maria's hand twitched again, but I was ready this time. I grabbed her wrist and wrenched, hard, until I felt her skin began to fracture and splinter under my fingers. Her rage, so close to my gift and so personal, was quickly escalating both of us. My vision was going red. I could snap her like a twig, and I wanted to. I _wanted_ to kill her, more than I ever had before. But I shoved her away instead, hating the part of myself that felt a thrill at her fear. We stared each other down, teeth at the ready, for another second.

"Let me know when you're ready to have an intelligent conversation about it," I hissed, turning and stalking toward the village. I needed blood, and I needed it _right now_. I looked back over my shoulder. "But in the meantime I suggest you take a look at your priorities. The last time we had _any_ chance of success at reaching Arizona was five years ago, when _Peter_ was here!" She shrieked through her clenched teeth behind me, but made no move to follow.

I went on, holding myself tall and confident, but I was shaking inside. It had never come that close with Maria, never. So much for not touching. _So much for treading lightly_ , I thought with fury. I had just guaranteed Juan's execution and made a bad situation worse. I grabbed the nearest human- he was a big fat man, cowering under the counter of a tortilla shop and screaming as he watched his neighbors get mown down by a thirsty crowd of newborns. I shivered from his terror being so close. Human emotions were normally more blunted than those of vampires, but they knew how fragile they were. The terror that struck them when they saw death approaching was awful.

"I'm taking you to safety," I told him harshly in Spanish. "I'm with the National Guard. Don't make any noise, or you'll get us both killed." The man nodded and his screams quieted along with his terror, somewhat. I dragged him far enough away from the others so that I was free of the painful emotions of their victims, and then I gave him a quick blow to the back of the head. He died in silence, but not quickly enough. I raced through the feeding and the frenzy while the blood was still hot, only to come back down to earth and plummet into hell. His dying horror flooded through me, combining with all the emotional stress of the battle, the execution, and the mess with Maria. His corpse slipped from my hands and I slowly collapsed into a heap beside him in the dirt, shivering and gasping and waiting for it to pass. From the crest of the hill far away, Maria watched me with smug satisfaction. It was all the revenge she needed.

At least I hoped it was.


	2. Malice

Things between Maria and me only grew more tense over the next couple of weeks. I was careful not to bring up the issue of Juan again, and was even more careful not to spend any time alone with him, or delegate anything to him, but the damage had been done. I felt Maria watching me with a growing suspicion. She had never felt this way toward me when I had Peter for my second, or before his creation, not seriously. But things were different now. I had committed treason since then, according to her reckoning, and Maria lived and breathed treason. Her suspicion began to burn with malice.

She became more involved with the newborns. She sent me out alone to fetch blood more often, while she stayed back filling my soldiers' minds with lies I could only guess at. Their feelings toward me began to shift, souring with fear and mistrust. I fully expected her to kill Juan at any moment, but she didn't. Possibly because she felt she could no longer trust me to back her up when she made the call.

Could she?

It wasn't as though the possibility hadn't crossed my mind. It had, often. There were times when I wanted, so _badly_ , to kill Maria for bringing me into this life. Assassinations weren't common, at least not in our local corner of the Wars, but they weren't unheard of either. El Serpiente had done it. But he had done it for ambition, driven by his own thirst to dominate. I honestly didn't feel that same drive. Even back in the beginning, when I was flushed with blood and victory and Maria's approval, I had never lusted for the command itself. Decades later, I still took some weary pride in our victories, and there was still a part of me that enjoyed training my army to be the best that they could… but I felt no need for more. I had never wanted to kill Maria just so I could usurp her. Truth be told, I didn't want to kill her at all, not really. Because despite everything, I didn't actually _hate_ Maria… not enough for that, anyway. I understood all too well the desperation that drove her to create me, to keep killing… to avenge her mate's death. I felt it every day. I wished I didn't understand, but I did. I had never personally known that terminal illness that was _love_ in our world, but my gift and my time with Maria made it painfully obvious what losing a mate did to a person. Try as I might, I couldn't hate her for the way she felt. Or maybe it was just my stubborn refusal to lose that last shred of honor I had left- because Maria was wrong. I _hadn't_ committed treason. I had yet to cross that line.

But if she pushed me…

It wasn't as though it would be impossible. If I acted now, I might still have the support of the others, especially with my gift to help matters. And I truly didn't even need their support. Maria was an excellent fighter, but she was no match for me. All I needed was thirty seconds alone with her.

And what if I did kill her? What then? I didn't have a personal vendetta against Arizona, or anyone. I had enemies, to be sure, but they were just opponents. Faces across the battlefield… faces belonging to men and women who hadn't asked for this life any more than I had. At least Maria _had_ her vendetta- she had that purpose driving her. Maybe that was what it took to lead for as long as she had: a white-hot fire of hate, always fueled and always fresh. I didn't have that. I would do things differently, to be sure, but for what? To keep killing so that I could survive, so that I could keep killing, so that I could survive? And yet, I _had_ to survive, and I _would_ have to seize command, because that was the only way to keep the blood flowing.

And I needed blood.

.

.

.

It was less than three weeks after the battle at the canyon that Maria took Juan into her bed. That was when I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt: she was going to kill me. It might be a matter of days or months, but it was coming. She had finally decided that keeping me, and the tactical advantage that I brought her, wasn't worth the risk anymore. I felt her malice growing daily now, hardened with determination. She no longer turned her back to me, and so I never turned mine to hers. We hardly spoke anymore, not even to argue.

"Patrol," she ordered one night, pointing at me and waving her hand off toward our northern bloodfields, which just edged up into Texas. Her anxiety was high… too high, for something as trivial as a patrol. I didn't answer right away, and for a few seconds we just looked at each other in wordless challenge.

"I'd like to take three," I said carefully, waiting to see how she would react. Her anger burned, but not before her anxiety spiked even higher. She nodded her permission without further argument- all the evidence I needed that the tension between us had reached the point of no return. I would not be caught alone again after this, and we both knew it.

I soon began to feel a new sense of doubt growing in Juan himself, whenever he looked at me. It wasn't enough for murder yet, but it would be before long. She was going to use him to do it, then. I had myself to thank for that, I supposed.

I no longer had any choice in the matter: I had to kill her before she could strike first. If I were to apply myself, to really use my gift and my silver tongue to its fullest potential, I was fairly sure I could turn the others fully against her. But I would not let her drive me to that final, deplorable act of _mutiny_.

I would do it alone. But that wasn't as simple as it had first seemed, even if I could manage it. I needed to prepare the others for the change in command, or I would have a mutiny on _my_ hands immediately afterward. I began to subtly influence them in a new way, as often as I could. Loyalty itself was not an emotion, but I began infusing them with pride and trust whenever I spoke with them, and anger and mistrust when they were focused on Maria…. or on Juan. I hated that I had to turn against him now, too, but that was the game she had decided we would play. I hated that even in _this_ she was calling the shots, but that was the way it had always been.

I only hoped that once Maria was taken care of, Juan wouldn't need to be next. I would need him, especially in those first few months without Maria. I didn't feel the same attachment to him as I had to Peter, but I was reluctant to end him. He had potential. And there was another problem, a _big_ problem that I hadn't seriously considered until now: I couldn't create vampires. I couldn't even comprehend the possibility. Where did that leave me? I had already decided that I wouldn't be continuing Maria's policy of indiscriminately executing newborns at the year mark. But I would continue to lose newborns to battles, to desertion, to the occasional necessary execution … how would I replace them?

I supposed I could try taking prisoners in the next battle… but I was going to already have my hands full ensuring the loyalty of my _own_ soldiers. Maybe the best way to ensure my own survival would be to desert, myself… to head straight into an enemy camp and offer my services. I had to admit, that idea soothed my pride. Maybe I'd go to Arizona, just to spite Maria… but it was likely I'd be torn apart before I could even make the offer. They knew me too well to risk trusting me. The same thing would happen with the Guatemalans. So that was out.

The whole thing was a disaster waiting to happen, and the more I thought about it, the bigger the disaster got. You _had_ to be able to create vampires in order to lead. To command an army was to be a creator. I would just have to learn, I supposed. But even if I could eventually succeed, the prospect of all those failed attempts, and even the transformations themselves, was horrifying. I couldn't even imagine what it was going to feel like to be near those emotions. I stayed away from Maria's transformations for a reason. And I liked to think there was some scrap of decency left in me- it was one thing to end human lives to sustain myself, but I didn't like the idea of being the one to _ruin_ those lives, to doom them to this existence just so they could serve me. I didn't like the idea of doing to someone else what Maria had done to me… what she was still doing to me. What she would keep doing to me long after her death. She had condemned me to an eternity of emotional pain and fruitless violence, all made worse by my relentless need for blood, which was also her doing.

And to think that I had ended up in Maria's path precisely because I was fighting a war that had been waged, at least in part, to _protect_ the institution of slavery. I wasn't one to bother about meaningless abstracts like atonement, but there wasn't a day gone by that didn't rub my scarred face in the irony of it all.

.

.

.

Another battle was looming. It had been three months now since the battle at the canyon, and El Serpiente had been busy. We had scouted a grand total of six new scents on our eastern border- he was cooking up something big. And earlier this week we had discovered their scent at least five miles inside our border, along with an entire cluster of human homes burned to the ground: a sure sign that they were poaching our blood. It was El Serpiente's way of throwing the proverbial glove on the ground, and Maria rose to the challenge eagerly… too eagerly. Her malice toward me was at a fever pitch now; even the newborns understood now that something bad was brewing. Maria was never one for subtlety.

"El Serpiente is growing in boldness… and in foolishness," she announced to everyone. "He should never have tipped his hand like this. He's outpaced himself, and this time it's going to cost him everything. I've waited a long time for this."

"You mean you'll be fighting in the battle as well?" Juan asked. My eyes narrowed as I felt his anxiety and guilt project toward me; I had a feeling he was reciting a line assigned to him. I didn't need to guess who the playwright was.

"I will," Maria said fiercely, her eyes blazing. Excitement stirred through the newborns, tainted by fear... especially in the case of the two new creations Maria had made last month. I had every expectation that they would need to be executed along with her.

"Wait," said Noah, "who'll be in charge during the fight?"

You could have heard a pin drop. I didn't think she had put Noah up to anything; his emotions gave nothing away, at least. And he had worshipped me ever since the canyon. But Maria couldn't have given herself a better opening if she'd tried. I felt everyone's eyes turn to me. If I played this wrong, I wouldn't see the sun set _tonight_ , much less make it to the battle.

"Maria, obviously," I snapped, giving Noah a look that made him shrink two inches. I turned to Maria, doing my best to look dutiful and fierce all at once. "What's the plan?"

Maria droned on, but it didn't take a genius to figure out her intentions. I had passed this one test, but it didn't matter. I now saw my fatal mistake in telling her, years ago, that my gift was the least effective during battle. She was going to make sure I didn't walk away from this fight, one way or the other.

I was out of time.

.

.

.

Most of our battles were fought during thunderstorms. No one quite understood who the Volturi were- I had a vague image in my head of some kind of ancient vampire royalty who had once played an important role in the Wars, half myth and half ancient history. But the Law was clear, the only Law that governed the Wars: the humans were never, _never_ to know about our kind. It was common sense, anyway. If the humans, so frail and soft and short-lived as individual prey, were to learn what _truly_ went on in the wilderness surrounding their settlements, they would band together and make life difficult for us. It was doubtful they could kill us, at least not many of us, but the delicate balance of territories would easily be upset if we had to constantly be swatting away the humans' attacks. But common sense or not, it was the Law.

There were stories. Rumors of raids by the Volturi when the Law was broken: mass executions, entire human cities wiped off the face of the earth to prevent other humans from learning of the incident. Whole armies disappearing overnight. But there hadn't been any of these so-called raids in my lifetime, at least not nearby. I wondered if the Volturi were even real, or just a myth conjured up once upon a time: bedtime stories to keep young, rabid newborns in line. And if they _were_ real, or had been real long ago, I wondered if they had something to do with the death of Maria's mate. She got strangely defensive and angry and even _afraid_ when I had raised the issue a couple times, back before I had learned to keep my mouth shut about it.

But regardless, the Law was the Law. Anyone caught doing anything that might risk exposure was executed immediately, as a lesson for the others. So it was an unspoken rule, a code followed by all Coven Leaders, that battles were to be conducted in such a way as not to draw the humans' attention. This meant open hostilities were confined to the wilderness: vast deserts and canyons, densely forested areas, even sometimes out at sea. Darkness was a necessity, to hide the peculiar purple smoke that always signaled the conclusive end of a fight. Sometimes, as had happened at the canyon, the fire was even lit during a fight by some moronic soldier who didn't seem to mind permanently losing his own limbs. Thunderstorms provided the necessary noise to cover up the rock-on-rock clamor of battle, which could get incredibly loud. There were times when the weather just didn't cooperate, or when fighting broke out unplanned and dangerously close to human civilization, but as a rule that didn't happen often.

I could smell the electricity in the air this afternoon, could see an ominous smudge over on the western horizon; a storm was brewing, and that meant I had to do it tonight. Before tonight, if possible. The problem was that while Maria wasn't always the sharpest tool in the shed, she was no idiot. She'd be on high alert today, and besides, it would be impossible to get her alone. On the day before a planned battle we were always busy with patrols, heavily laying down our scent along our borders just in case our other enemies got it into their heads to take advantage of the situation. Maria was taking the others around on yet another run along the Gulf coast, and I had stolen away for a few minutes of peace. It was probably not a wise move- who knew what she was saying to the others right now- but I needed some space. I needed time to think.

I didn't know why I had put it off this long. Maybe a part of me- a very foolish part, I now saw- had been hoping for a peaceful resolution, because I really didn't want to do this. And it wasn't just because I didn't want the burden of command. I really didn't _want_ to kill her. Whether it was the reluctant understanding my gift gave me, or those last shreds of honor and chivalry that stubbornly clung to my gut, or even some twisted, buried sense of affection for the woman I had spent decades trying to please… the bottom line was that I wasn't looking forward to this, not at all. And now I had waited too long. It would have to be done during the battle, most likely. She was probably preparing Juan to help her take me down during those dangerous moments of madness that marked the end stage of a victory. Which meant, naturally, that I would have to strike in the beginning of the fight. My enemies would briefly become my allies, keeping my army too busy to turn on me.

I wondered if I could quietly persuade one or two to act with me. I knew I could count on Noah, though he wasn't worth much. Manuel probably wouldn't take much convincing…

My nose twitched suddenly and my muscles tensed as I glanced around. A breeze was coming in from the northwest, and a vampire scent with it. We didn't have anyone up that way right now. I focused on the scent, what little I could catch of it. Maybe it would be good for a scout from Arizona to come sniffing around today; I could offer to spare his life in exchange for his assistance, offer him a place under my command. But if it was someone from Arizona, they would be coming from out of the water, this far from their territory. Maybe a scout from one of the armies up in the Midwest? I ran further north a few hundred yards, chasing the scent as the breeze pulled it away. My nostrils flared as the breeze twisted toward me again.

Peter?

No, it couldn't be… Peter was long dead. I sniffed again, unable to believe what I was smelling. Every vampire carried his or own scent, their own particular version of inhuman sweetness. I had known vampires whose scents were somewhat similar, especially if they had been biologically related as humans, but was it possible for someone to smell that much like him?

It _was_ him. There was no mistaking it.

"Peter?" I called out in a harsh whisper, scanning the horizon.

"Here!"

My head snapped to the left, toward the whispered answer, and I saw movement among the rocks on a hillside, a quarter mile away. I glanced over my shoulder to ensure we were alone. I darted toward the hill, but stopped well short of where he was. What kind of trap was this? How had Peter been alive this whole time? Had he and Charlotte deserted to Arizona after all? Surely I would have scented him on patrols before now, if that had been the case…

Peter's head rose above the rocky landscape right in front of me. I flinched, backing up a few feet. A smile broke over his scarred face, and my gift sang to feel his familiar presence. His amicable trust had always been so soothing, and it glowed with something new now: anticipation… affection. I glanced over my shoulder again, finally stepping closer.

"I don't believe this," I began cautiously. But I couldn't help myself; I was smiling too. I couldn't _believe_ he was still alive! I felt a happiness surge inside me; it was such a foreign feeling, it almost hurt. I felt the same happiness coming from him now. I wasn't used to all this positive emotion. I would be dizzy in a minute.

"It's good to see you," he said. He seemed hesitant to move any closer, as well. We stood in silence for half a minute, curiously taking each other in. He looked almost exactly the same as he had five years ago. Only one new scar on his cheek.

"You're… with Lorenzo now?" I asked quietly.

Peter's grin grew wider. "No. Charlotte and I don't serve anyone. We're free."

I blinked.

Peter's grin began to fade. "She lied to us, Jasper. The earth is _not_ covered with swarms of vampires locked in eternal war."

I shook my head, not understanding. "What are you talking about?"

Peter hauled himself up onto one of the larger boulders. I tensed at the movement, back on guard again. It _had_ to be a trap. I sniffed again, but I couldn't find anyone else's scent on him besides Charlotte. How was _she_ still alive?

Peter hesitated for another moment, then spoke quietly. "I came back to tell you. It's going to be hard to hear, and harder to believe, but just hear me out, all right? When we left- when Charlotte and I ran that day- I thought we were done for. I thought that no matter how fast, or how far we ran, we'd eventually be caught by one of the hundreds of covens battling for dominance over their little corners of the U.S. I fully expected to die before the sun rose again… at least before the week was out."

I nodded grimly; I had naturally assumed the same. "Okay, I'm with you so far. So who did you run into?"

Peter smiled again, sadly this time. His red eyes watched me carefully as he spoke. "No one."

"What do you mean, no one? Are you trying to tell me that the Arizona coven vanished into thin air? And what about the neighboring covens?"

"Arizona's real enough," Peter said grimly. "I've known that from day one." His hand rose to his cheek, touching the jagged scar that ran from his nose to his ear, right above the new one. I was there the night he had gotten that scar. "I knew enough not to run _that_ way. We made it up into the Midwest, though we thought it was only a matter of time. For a while, it made sense, not coming across anyone's scent- I figured the territories had to be bigger up there, what with the thinner human population. Thought maybe the fighting was further off, that maybe they hadn't gotten to run border patrols in a while. But two weeks… three weeks. I started to wonder. And then we ran into a mated pair."

I nodded towards him. "Scouts. The new scar?"

Peter grinned, suddenly flushed with an odd combination of embarrassment and lust and pride. "Uh, no, that's courtesy of Charlotte." I raised my eyebrows, but nodded for him to continue. "There wasn't any fighting with this pair. They were friendly. And they weren't scouts, they were nomads."

"Nomads?"

"It turns out most vampires are nomads- just wandering alone, or with a mate. Sometimes a friend or two. But _free_ , Jasper. As far as I know, Arizona is the northernmost coven in the Wars, and most of their territory is actually south of Phoenix. The fighting isn't worldwide, not by a long shot. It's only here…" He swept his arm vaguely around. "Little bits of the southern states, Louisiana especially. Mexico, Central America… maybe the top couple hundred miles or so of South America. The rest of the vampire world calls it the _Southern_ Wars."

I blinked again. I was still stuck on _friendly._ Peter didn't seem to be lying; at least I felt no malice, no spike in anxiety… none of the telltale emotions that went along with lies. He had to be mistaken. Lied to, himself.

"I know, too good to be true," Peter said quickly. "I wondered that myself. But it's been five years, Jasper. Charlotte and I have traveled all across the United States, even Canada, and I haven't seen a shred of evidence that there's any fighting _anywhere_ except here. We've run into several others since then, all nomads like that first pair. They all had the same story. Most of them had heard of the fighting down here, but that's it."

I shook my head. It wasn't possible. Maybe Peter had been… influenced somehow. Someone with a hypnotic gift of some kind? But a five-year plan seemed like overkill, if it was someone's goal to use him just to lure me away from Maria. I'd never actually met Lorenzo, but I doubted he had the patience for that…

"Look," Peter said with a frown. His anxiety was returning. "I know it sounds crazy. But it's true, Jasper. We're free now." He glanced around. "I can't stay. Charlotte's waiting for me, back up near Houston-"

"You left her alone in _Houston?_ Are you _crazy_?"

"-where she's perfectly safe," he continued firmly. "Because there is _no_ fighting, even that close. But I'm not safe here- you know what Maria would do if she caught me. I have to go." He paused briefly, his red eyes fixed on mine. "Come with me, Jasper."

I coughed out a bitter laugh, but it died in my throat. What if it _was_ true? All the inconsistencies, the tangles and gaps in Maria's stories began to make sense. I had always known that my creator and lies went hand in hand; I helped her tell them often enough. Could it really be possible that she had managed to lie to me about _this_ , though? That I could have fallen for something this big? With my gift?

It didn't matter. Even if Peter had been tricked somehow, even if this was a trap… it was still better than what I had here. The best I could possibly hope for was a successful coup and change of power… for what? So that I could keep fighting for the rest of eternity, drowning in hate and blood and the painful drudgery of killing? I didn't suppose I could escape the blood, even if everything Peter said was true. And if it wasn't, maybe death was the best I could hope for. But if there was even the slimmest possibility of having _peace_ …

Peter's eyes darted around; he was getting more nervous every second. "I have to go," he repeated, beginning to edge away. He looked at me in question.

I nodded. "And I'm coming with you."

He grinned, his happiness bubbling higher and lightening our anxiety. I closed my eyes for half a second, simply enjoying the feel of it. When I opened my eyes again he was already running. He shot away to the North, looking over his shoulder expectantly, and I followed. I didn't give the past eighty years a backward glance.


	3. Shock

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story so far. You guys are the best!**

**We're still in canon for this chapter, so this also serves as a regular prequel outtake. It's quite short but such an important scene I felt it needed to stand alone. Anyway, the chapters in this story won't generally be anywhere near as long as Edward's, since Jasper isn't the angsty-monologue type. If all goes according to plan, the chapter after this will take us into AU territory.**

* * *

Peter and I ran in silence, two shadows leaping over the Rio Grande into Texas just as the first stars popped out. I had come here often in my first couple of decades, using the scattered villages in the emptiness just east of the border as a blood source. I hadn't crossed the border in years, though; the tightened security wasn't worth the trouble when Maria's bloodfields filled most of Northern Mexico anyway. But with only ourselves tonight and no screaming humans in tow, it was a simple matter of slipping between the slipshod net of border guards.

I felt uneasy as we turned due East and headed toward Houston. We were still technically in Maria's territory, but on the fringes; she hadn't made her way up to patrol the city since before my creation. There was every possibility that the infamous Bayou Coven had long since claimed… _or maybe there is no Bayou Coven_ , I told myself with a wry smile. Still, I'd feel a lot better once I saw some evidence of Peter's claim. Or _didn't_ see any evidence to the contrary, more like. I scanned the darkening horizon as I ran, trying to imagine it empty and safe instead of crawling with vampire armies. It didn't _feel_ safe. A chill ran up my spine as I spied the long strip of land offshore that was the island town of Galveston. This was where my human life had ended. I hardly recognized the landscape, changed as it was. Hurricanes, the U.S. Government, and time itself had remade Virginia Point a dozen times since I had ridden across this plain to my doom.

We turned North and slowed as we approached the city, and my instincts went into full alert. I had _never_ come this close to human civilization before. But that was a point in my favor tonight; on the offchance that Maria would be desperate enough to follow our trail this far, this was the best way to lose her. I slowed to a human-paced walk, following Peter into the haze of odors, lights and noise that was Houston. I had been in enough villages and homes over the years to be somewhat familiar with all the newfangled human inventions like automobiles and telephones and electric, but this was too much. Blinking signs and rancid smells and blaring horns assaulted my senses. At least the emotional climate was neutral enough, with so many people about, and the nasty smells helped to drown out the ocean of blood scents we were passing through. At least there weren't any other vampire scents on the air… if this cloud of pollution could be called air.

"Things sure have changed," I said, turning my head to look at a female wearing funny-looking stockings and hardly any clothes as she walked past us. She smiled, looking me over and twining her fingers through her red curls as she began to saunter back toward me. She had a cigarette jammed between two of the fingers on her other hand and her breath reeked of alcohol, but otherwise she smelled good enough. My throat blazed and my feet slowed to a stop.

Peter gripped my shoulder and spun me back around to continue walking. "You can hunt later," he murmured under his breath. "I want to find Charlotte first."

Indignation burned through me, but only briefly. Peter wasn't my subordinate anymore; I needed to remember that. If what he said was true and there wasn't anyone else about, that meant that Houston was _his_ territory, at least for the time being. I'd have to remember my manners. And he was anxious, no doubt fearing whether his mate was still safe after all this time apart. If she was so important to him, why'd he put her in danger to come get me?

I reached out with a subtle wave of calm. "Where'd you leave her?"

"Just outside the city to the east, but she was making her way to the library. We'll meet her there."

"Library? What for?"

He smiled, but sadness and pity welled up beneath his anxiety. "There's a whole world out here, Jasper. It was there the whole time."

I clenched my jaw and followed him through the maze of city streets, not liking the feeling of the smells and the tall buildings closing in on me. And it wasn't just that; everything looked wrong. The cars and the skyscrapers and the neon lights, it was all wrong. I strained to remember what it was supposed to look like, but it was all lost, and that in itself was unsettling. Houston- _my_ Houston- was a stranger to me now. I pretended the cars were carriages and horses, the pavement to be good hard earth. I wished away the skyscrapers, drawing an old-time landscape of timber buildings framed by a clear night sky. It was all imaginary, though; it was nowhere to be found in my memory. It was lost.

But it wasn't just the concrete landscape closing in around me- it was the growing fear that Peter was right. It should have felt like hope, but it didn't. If he was right… that was the most uncomfortable feeling of all. That this whole time, Maria had played me for a fool. That I had swallowed the biggest lie of all. That freedom had been a handful of miles away this whole time.

It didn't bear thinking about right now. I had yet to be convinced. Peter's anxiety dropped somewhat and he picked up the pace, heading straight for an enormous building dotted with the unnatural glow of electric lights. I caught Charlotte's scent a second after he did.

"Closing time in a half hour, sonny," an old whiskered man behind a counter said as Peter ducked inside. "Hold it," he said, his voice growing gruffer as he looked me over. "Can't come inside like _that_." I frowned and followed his gaze down to my bare feet. I supposed that compared to Peter I looked like a vagabond, or maybe something that had crawled out of a coffin. My mismatched clothes, obtained from whatever prey fit somewhat near my size, were frayed and torn. At least the blood stains weren't too bad, but I didn't want to guess what my hair looked like. For a moment I considered swatting the whiskered man out of my way, but a building-full of terrified humans wasn't what I needed right now. I shrugged uselessly at Peter, who turned around and frowned at the back of the man's head.

"I'm looking for a book on… trains," he said, earning the man's attention again. "Can you point me in the right direction?"

The whiskered man took Peter off toward one of the sections of bookshelves and I slipped inside, uncomfortable with the looks the humans gave me. I wasn't used to moving around in their world like this, following their rules and being seen under their lights. I had often been the one assigned to bring back a gaggle of live humans for the newborns, but I usually just collected them from their homes during the night, and those homes were always isolated. And even that was closer to civilization than I liked.

I moved quickly- not _too_ quickly, I hoped- to the back of the library, hiding between the rows of tall shelves as I waited for Peter to untangle himself from the whiskered man. There was someone in the row next to mine who smelled delicious, but if the library didn't approve of bare feet I had a feeling they wouldn't appreciate me feasting on one of their patrons during business hours. I swallowed my venom and focused on Charlotte's scent, which directed me to a dimly-lit stairwell leading to the second floor. I thought about going on ahead to meet her while I waited for Peter, but it would probably be best not to do that. Charlotte would probably be afraid of me. I had been seconds away from killing her the last time we saw each other, after all. And I didn't know how much of Peter's anxiety had to do with having me this close to his mate in the first place.

Peter made his escape and joined me, taking the stairs four at a time in his eagerness. We found Charlotte sitting cross-legged on the floor in a dark corner, studying some thick book and nearly hidden from our sight by the tall stacks of other books she had surrounded herself with. Her nose twitched and she looked up, and a fraction of a second later she and Peter were knotted around each other so tightly they looked like one person. I rocked a step backwards as their anxiety suddenly vanished, their hearts igniting instead with happiness and contentment and a dozen other emotions that were so foreign I had no name for them. But they were warm, and my eyes closed as I felt myself float in the sea of their love.

I had felt love between mated pairs a few times, but it had always been a frantic, fearful sense of possession as they clutched their mate during a battle. Exactly like what Peter and Charlotte had felt on the night they made their escape. But now their love had completely turned into something else- something warm and soft and safe. They were completely without fear. This was something that didn't belong in the world I had known. The world I knew was one in which life was cheap and falling in love was a death sentence… or a sentence to an eternity of misery like Maria's. The emotional reality I felt here was all the proof I needed: Peter was right. Their love wasn't diseased with fear because they had no reason to fear. Because they were safe. They were free.

I was free.

I was _free_.

It hit me like a freight train. I had run up here with Peter on a whim, half believing, half expecting to be fighting for my life once the trap was sprung. Either was fine with me; anything but the misery I had left behind. But in this moment, the truth suddenly became real around me, shot through me. I felt every emotion at once; I wasn't big enough to contain it all. It felt like the floor was whisked out from under my feet, like the air and blood and venom were sucked out of my body all at once and splashed onto the horizon, instantly painting a whole new world for me to run toward. Peter and Charlotte flinched as my shock hit them- I couldn't even think about controlling it. I felt as if I would explode from anger and joy and shame and fear and murder and elation. I backed away from them, afraid of what my gift would do. The room felt like it was shrinking.

"I need… I need to get outside," I pleaded. Charlotte scampered over to another door and I let myself be pulled along by Peter. I stumbled up another set of steps and found myself under the stars, on the library roof. I backed further away from them, drawing deep breaths of the night air and looking around at the world as if I had never seen it before.

"Are you all right?" Peter asked. I nodded dumbly, raking my trembling hands back through my hair until they locked together at the back of my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut and got a hold of myself, reeling back in all the emotion I had flooded Peter and Charlotte with. They relaxed, left only with their curiosity.

"It's true," I murmured, staring at them as if they were strangers. "It all true, isn't it?"

"You're free," Charlotte said simply. She smiled. "Just like us."

I looked at her, confused. Their love wasn't the only thing that was different; Charlotte was different too. She had always been so skittish, so out of place. So unwilling to fight. Not that any of us belonged in this world, but she _really_ hadn't belonged. I hadn't a clue as to why Maria had changed her, or even let her live to her year mark; she wasn't worth the blood we spent on her. But now she looked like she belonged. She held herself taller. Her emotions were steady and strong. Peter was different too, but I couldn't figure out how yet, because I didn't understand. What he had done for me today… our kind didn't do that. Our kind didn't change.

"Why?" I blurted out.

Peter tilted his head slightly. "Why what?"

"Why did you come back for me? Why did you take that risk? You were free."

Peter smiled slightly. "I wanted you to be free too." He looked down at Charlotte, his love surging as his arm tightened around her shoulder. "We owe you our lives," he said softly, looking back up at me again. "Giving you the chance to live yours the way you see fit… it was the least I could do."

I still didn't understand. I still didn't know what to make of this new world… what my place would be in it. I was bursting with questions and still churning inside, unsure what to feel or think about it all. But there was one thing I was sure of, and that was that I wouldn't have had a ghost of a chance at any of this but for the vampires standing in front of me right now.

"You have my gratitude," I said thickly. I let the warmth of that gratitude spill over, hoping they could feel it too. I looked down at Charlotte, still amazed at the change in her. "Both of you. Forever."


	4. Decision

**Bear with me on the chapter titles... at first I thought "hey, our narrator is an empath so wouldn't it be cool to have emotions as chapter titles?" Meh, I'm tired of it already so I'll be tweaking the titles a bit once I figure them out.**

**So here we are! This chapter officially takes Jasper into AU territory, though the first half or so could still be canon if you like.**

* * *

At some point Peter and Charlotte went back inside the library to give me space. I must have stood there for hours, just staring down at the streets of Houston and coming to grips with my new reality- my sudden freedom _and_ the strange new world of 1941 that I had suddenly been dropped into. My eyes darted back and forth, following the automobiles as I wondered where all the humans were going in such a hurry, even at this hour of the night. Their electric lights seemed to dot every square inch of the city, like they were afraid to go ten feet without blinding themselves with a lightbulb. How could they stand the constant noise of the humming electricity, the rumble and screeches of all their new machines? How could they enjoy living out their brief little lives in that concrete jungle down there, never touching the warmth of the earth, all crammed together like sardines?

I didn't understand their world anymore. It had been going on without me for the past eighty years, indifferent to my poaching the edges of its civilizations for blood at night and squirreling it back out into the wilderness to feed the ravenous soldiers in my care. And now I learned I could have been out here the whole time, not really a _part_ of that world, but keeping up with it at least. Exploring it as I wanted, answerable to no one. My own man. Still a monster of the night, to be sure, but a free one.

I looked up past the city lights, back at the open terrain that stretched out ahead, and I finally did remember one thing: the feeling of riding free, the wind whistling in my ears as Patch's hooves ate up the miles between us and the sunset. I remembered an open sea of grass and sky around me, mountains and towns and deserts flying by. I remembered wanting to go see the rest of that world someday, once the War was won. Instead I found myself sentenced to an eternity of work and emotional pain and fruitless violence, prowling restlessly along the dusty edges of the yard Maria had fenced me into.

I hadn't long mourned the loss of my freedom. The wide world, I soon learned, was actually full of monsters like me, armies upon armies of snarling teeth ready to shred me to pieces if I left the safety of that yard. I easily consigned myself to the drudgery of violence assigned to me, because there was blood waiting for me every time I did well. There was a new loyalty to be had, a new war to be fought… a new regiment that needed leadership. And as time wore on and I swallowed the bitter truth that it would never end, that the emotional pain would always be fresh, that my soldiers' lives were worthless, that Maria's favor would always feel sour, no matter how hard I worked… I kept fighting, because it was all I had. Hope faded as the years passed, replaced with misery. But what else was there to do, except to keep fighting? The only escape was death, and that meant no more blood. No more purpose, as stale and small as that purpose had become.

What would be my purpose now? _None_ , I thought bitterly. I was free of Maria herself, but I would never be free of the eternity she had sentenced me to. I would take it, though, and gladly. Just the thought of wandering free, of only feeling the emotions I chose to feel… it was enough, at least for now. I spun around again, this time in a slower circle, taking in the wider world that was waiting for me. It wouldn't be perfect, I knew; I would still need to feed. But on my own terms, from now on. My days of killing human children were over, I decided fiercely. She might have made me a monster, but I didn't have to settle for that anymore, not fully. Maybe I'd even try leaving women alone… _well, maybe save that one for later_ , I thought sardonically. _Let's not make it too difficult right off the bat._ But I felt a surge of rebellious pride at my decision. Everything I could chisel away from what Maria had made me was a victory.

Feeling a new confidence, I ducked back into the stairwell and went to rejoin Peter and Charlotte in the upstairs room. I smiled to feel a more physical form of their love filling the hall and cleared my throat loudly before going in. They looked innocently studious, reading books side by side… except Peter's book was upside down.

I quietly closed the door behind me. "Sorry, but the sun's about to come up. I figured I shouldn't stay perched on the rooftop much longer."

"Probably right," Peter agreed. He finally noticed his upside-down book and tossed it aside. "We'll need to spend the day in here," he added, looking down at Charlotte. "It's supposed to be sunny."

I frowned. "So?"

"So… we can't let the humans see us in the sunlight?" Charlotte said slowly. I was equally annoyed and embarrassed by the pity she was feeling toward me again. Of _course_ it made sense, that we couldn't let the humans see us in the sunlight. Then they would know something about us wasn't right… wasn't human. I really hadn't given it much thought before, since pretty much all the humans I had ever encountered were slotted for death within an hour or two… or within the year, if they were _lucky_ enough to be chosen. Moving around humans not only without eating them, but without even letting on that I was different, was something I'd have to get used to. I could do that. And I needed to use my head; I didn't want to be a liability, after all Peter had done for me.

"I know that," I said smoothly. "But can't we leave the city before the sun rises?"

Peter shrugged, glancing out a high window. "Not much time. Besides, Charlotte's only halfway through…" he plucked Charlotte's book out of her hands. " _The Mystery at the Moss-Covered Mansion_ ," he read aloud dramatically. She giggled and grabbed it back out of his hands. "Why, are you thirsty?"

"I'll manage," I said quickly, swallowing the venom that swelled up in protest. _Not a liability_ , I reminded myself firmly. If they could make it until nightfall, so could I.

Hopefully.

Charlotte settled back into her novel while Peter and I caught each other up on the past five years. He seemed genuinely interested to hear about Maria's latest stunts, which was good because I really didn't have anything else to tell him. Peter, on the other hand, was bursting with news. I was amazed to hear how much land he and Charlotte had already covered in their travels. They had zigzagged across the United States three times now, trekking up into Canada and even swimming around the North Pole to explore bits of Greenland, Russia, and Siberia.

"We'll get braver as time goes on," he said bashfully, like that wasn't enough. "Anyway, we prefer coming back here to home base most of the time."

"Houston?"

"America!" Charlotte laughed quietly, turning another page in her book. We had to keep our voices down, now that the library was open again. My throat was getting uncomfortable, the thirst flaring every time the humans' whispers from downstairs got loud enough to tempt me.

"Did you meet many vampires over there, on the other side?"

Peter shrugged. "Just one mated pair. We caught other scents three times, but two were stale and one was laid pretty heavily all around… like they were marking their territory. We decided not to press our luck with that one."

"Why not? I thought you said everyone was friendly."

"Not everyone. Our world is full of different characters, just like the human one. I've heard of renegade newborns out on the loose, local territory disputes, millennia-old covens with grudges… and you know better than anyone what's always brewing down _here_." He nodded toward the south.

"A whole civilization," I murmured. "It's a shame the Volturi aren't real after all, to keep a handle on things."

"They're real," Charlotte piped up from behind her book.

I frowned at Peter, still not understanding. "But I thought you said it was all lies. The German Coven, the Volturi, and all that."

"Most of it. We still haven't figured it all out. But the Volturi have been around since… well, forever, is the impression I get. They're the closest thing our world has to a government. We don't have many laws, but they're the ones who write and enforce them."

"What laws?"

"You taught me the big one," he reminded me. "No exposing our nature to the humans. Most of the other laws relate to that one- no creating vampire children, since they're too wild. No feeding in public, no being seen in the sunlight, no leaving your kills out with the evidence still on their throats, things like that. No creating newborn armies," he added significantly.

"Then why don't they do their job? Don't they know what's going on down here?"

Peter shrugged again. "They have a whole world to manage. I know they've come and cleaned up this area in the past, but they can't be everywhere at once. I don't think there are that many of them, honestly. There are three who rule jointly, and there's a Guard… I think they're like the vampire military. They go around dressed in these gray cloaks and keep the peace."

I raised my eyebrows. "An army? How big?"

"I don't know. Fifteen? Twenty? They're strong, though. Just their reputation is usually enough to keep most of us following the Law. Not that we mind, really- it makes sense to keep the humans unaware of us. Makes life easier. Anyway, as long as you follow the Law they stay out of your business."

"Life," I echoed curiously. I wasn't used to thinking of this existence as a _life_. "I mean… what do you _do_ all the time?"

"We wander," Peter said with a smile. "See what there is to see… we travel the world and enjoy it together." His contentment was palpable.

I had always imagined contentment as the absence of negative emotions- the blessed relief of feeling nothing at all. I had always snatched bits of that contentment when I could, putting enough distance between myself and the others that I couldn't feel them. The precious moments of solitude as I ran here and there, patrolling or seeking out blood to bring back to the newborns. But I was always needed back at camp before long, to settle a fight or calm someone down or do whatever chore Maria had for me. And even those brief runs, the closest I had ever come to freedom, were over too quickly. I had learned that Maria's mood deteriorated with every minute longer I took than necessary. I had always ached to feel nothing for the rest of eternity; those brief snatches, never more than an hour or two apiece, had never been enough.

But here was a contentment that was actually a real, tangible emotion in and of itself. Peter and Charlotte smiled at each other, with love to be sure, but this time with a deep sense of rest and peace. And anticipation. "We like to explore," Charlotte explained with a light in her eyes. "Peter and I were both the kind of humans who loved to learn, to read, to study… and now we love it even more. There's a whole world out there, and we've just grazed the surface of it. All different climates, animals, languages, art forms… it'll take an eternity to learn it all, and another eternity to keep up with it."

"I'm happy for you," I said honestly. I smiled, enjoying my own new world, where emotions like this could exist. I had ached for emptiness for so long, but it looked like it was more a hunger that wanted to be filled. I didn't have to settle for nothingness. There were a world of _good_ emotions out here, just waiting to be felt.

"Travel with us," Peter offered eagerly. Charlotte nodded her agreement, though there was just a touch of hesitation behind her smile. I was amazed she even wanted me here with them at all, could _trust_ me at all, considering I had almost killed her the last time we saw each other. Her newfound freedom- from fear, as much as from slavery- was a beautiful thing.

"Maybe for a little while," I agreed. Charlotte's smile grew, her reluctance fading instantly. I couldn't begrudge her not wanting to share Peter for the rest of eternity, and truth be told I didn't much like the idea of being a third wheel for the rest of eternity. It made me wonder if maybe, someday, I'd find a love of my own. For the first time in my long years as a vampire, the thought made me smile.

.

.

.

Peter and Charlotte spent much of the day telling me stories of things they had encountered in their travels: other vampires, interesting humans, some of their favorite discoveries in the natural world. They had even attended some human social events, like keeping just inside the woods to watch an outdoor concert or play.

"Someday I'm taking you to an opera," Peter promised his mate gallantly, and they shared a laugh that made it sound like he had referenced some kind of ongoing joke. "I'm not really controlled enough to be around that many humans in an enclosed space," he explained. "So a few years from now, hopefully I'll be ready. As if I wanted to go listen to humans screech on stage for an entire evening!" He made a face, and Charlotte laughed again, breaking into a story of how he had surprised her once with a fancy ball gown and a romantic evening of dancing on the roof of a concert hall while the human orchestra serenaded them.

I relaxed further as they shared their memories and their comfortable emotions with me. There was only one difficult moment during the day, and that was when a human found his way into our room and began poking through the journals on the shelves. It was torture to sit there without breathing, pretending to read while the human took his sweet time looking for whatever he was looking for. Peter looked fairly uncomfortable as well, which soothed my pride. Charlotte didn't seem to be having much trouble- maybe she had fed while Peter had come to get me.

My thirst had doubled by the time the human shuffled back down the stairs and left us in peace. As Peter ran out of stories and took to reading with Charlotte again, I grew restless, pacing back and forth in the tiny room and watching the slow course of the sun through the window. The burn grew worse as the hours wore on, crawling down into my stomach. I felt like I had swallowed a bucketful of sand… sand that had been set on fire.

Finally twilight was upon us and we were free. We all agreed it would be best to make our way north immediately, just in case Maria was foolish enough to follow us this deep into the city. Peter saved my pride once again by announcing that he really needed to feed and that we could all just meet outside the city limits in an hour or so. My throat sizzled and burned with a vengeance at the thought of blood coming so soon. I took the stairs in one silent leap, barely keeping to human pace as I stormed out of the library. I nearly killed the lady who was taking up the _entire doorway_ with her bulky form and her bags full of books, but I managed to make it outside. I felt pretty pleased with myself; I hadn't gone that long without blood in a long time, and here I was still in control. Not bad at all.

I made my way toward the suburbs. I skirted along the northern edge of the city and found an elderly couple out for an evening walk in a manicured little park. I knocked them both unconscious and dragged them deeper into the trees, guzzling the male's blood before the female could wake up.

I didn't know what I had been expecting. Maybe that my new freedom would magically take away the pain of feeding? But it was _worse_. Not only did I have the fear from both of them in whatever monster-dreams getting hit on the head had created, but when the man's dying terror flooded me, even from his unconscious state, it hit me with a shock I hadn't felt in a long time. It was as if spending all day at peace had put my gift off guard, made me more sensitive to the negative emotional onslaught now. It was a miserable trade, I thought, wiping my trembling hand across my lips, but I'd take it. Maybe I could learn to compensate somehow.

I thought for a minute about leaving the female alone, but it wasn't exactly merciful to leave her to wake up and find her husband dead, now was it? And I was still thirsty. I fed again, suffered again, and buried my prey deep under the shallow roots of a young pine.

I still had plenty of time before I needed to meet Peter and Charlotte, so I thought I'd try out my new freedom for a little while. Cleanse the palate of my gift with some pleasant emotions, wherever I could find them. I checked my reflection in a frozen puddle to make sure I didn't have any blood still on my face- terrifying the townspeople would sort of defeat the purpose of my plan- and strolled calmly back out through the park into the housing development across the street.

It was considerably colder than last night. My prey's throats had come wrapped in cheerful scarves, and a drippy snow was beginning to fall. I felt annoyed as I realized how out of place the weather made me look, barefoot and coatless as I was, but we'd be leaving town tonight anyhow. I spent the next hour poking through backyards, curiously sampling the emotions coming from the human's homes and trying to match them with the scenes I was seeing in the windows.

One lady had the funniest case of anxiety while she cooked dinner for her family. She was actually _talking_ to the dead bird sprawled in her oven, shaking her finger at it and threatening that it had been come out right this time or else! At another house I watched a gaggle of children run around outside, trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues. My throat burned once with envy, but it was nice to enjoy their carefree, childish fun, secure in the knowledge that I wasn't going to do anything to disturb that happiness. I spent quite a while curiously keeping up with the budding feelings of a teenage couple as they whispered together, inching closer throughout their conversation and finally linking their hands together. But then the girl got to blushing and I thought I'd better leave before they ended up underground like the couple in the park.

My favorite was an older lady in an upstairs bedroom. She was so far up and away from where I was hidden that I couldn't quite catch what she was feeling, but it was something warm and wonderful. Glancing around, I finally stole closer to the house and pressed myself up against the siding behind a nice bushy tree. I had to lean out again to see what she was doing- she was pacing back and forth in a tiny pink room, bouncing as she walked and clutching a bundle to her shoulder. A gentle lullaby whispered out of her wrinkled lips… a song that almost seemed familiar. I closed my eyes and let myself get carried along by her tender love. As I focused my gift, I could just barely discern a second source of love, much weaker and quieter… the baby? It was surprisingly similar to the love the woman was feeling. I stayed there until the stars began to come out, soaking in that love like a dry sponge.

I had never been able to do this before. I had always sensed the emotions of the humans I approached, a few seconds or minutes before they saw me, depending on how I was handling it. But it was never for very long, and I could never quite let myself enjoy even the most positive emotions because I had already selected those humans to sustain me and those waiting thirstily for my return. I had no problem ending the humans themselves- that was just how it was- but I had never liked being the one to end a particular happy couple or family… being the one to turn those beautiful emotions into something terrible at the end. It was better to come up quick and end them quicker, or at least put them on their guard if I had to transport them alive. It was easier that way. But this… this was nice, to be able to stand in the shadows and appreciate something as soft and pleasant as what the old lady felt for… her grandchild, I supposed it was. To stand there and soak it in and leave it in peace.

When I met Charlotte at the rendezvous point, she was still waiting for Peter.

"You look different," she said, tilting her head in confusion. She smiled. "You look happy."

"Happy?" I echoed, mulling over the word. Maybe that was an overstatement, but I couldn't deny how pleasant my evening had been, at least the end of it. "It's a grand thing," I admitted aloud, feeling a sudden tenderness for the girl who was willing to let Peter risk their happiness for my sake. "You two have given me a great gift, more than you realize. It's not just the freedom itself, but… to be able to take in some of the good emotions from the humans. I never had time to appreciate them before."

To my surprise, Charlotte's smile melted as guilt washed through her. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"He would have come for you earlier," she admitted. "He wanted to- that was one reason we never wandered too far out of the country. But I wasn't… it took me a while to be ready for that." For just a few seconds, a hint of her old fear rose up as her gaze drifted timidly over my scars. I reached out gently with my gift, soothing her discomfort away with my gratitude.

"Please don't feel guilty about that," I insisted, nodding to Peter in greeting as he came into sight. "You didn't owe me anything, least of all this."

"This what?" Peter asked, joining us.

I told them about some of the emotions I had been sampling, and what that felt like. This was nice, too, to speak openly about the emotional world with two people that I trusted. Maria had only been interested in my gift as a strategic tool; whenever I had anything to say beyond that, she usually interrupted me with her own agenda or outright told me to shut up and stop complaining. It was nice to be listened to.

The temperature plummeted as we made our way north, but it didn't bother us in the slightest. I was fascinated by the snow, having seen so little of it as a human and a vampire. I spent hours examining the intricate designs of snowflakes, marveling at their diversity. I could carry a thousand of them on my arm for hours and they wouldn't melt.

I learned something else interesting, a couple days into wandering with Peter and Charlotte. I noticed, after feeding for the second time outside of Houston, that Charlotte still hadn't hunted, at least not since Peter and I had rejoined her.

"I usually go about a week," she said casually.

"A _week_?" I echoed, dumbfounded. I had once seen Maria go nearly that long, but she was centuries old.

"I can only make it five days," Peter admitted.

I shook my head. "Still! You're both far younger than me, I don't understand…"

"It has nothing to do with age," Peter said. "Not unless you're a real newborn, I mean. We travelled for a few days once with a nomad named Mary, and she wondered why we were feeding so often. Turns out most vampires can go two whole weeks, if they need to."

"Another of Maria's tricks," Charlotte added crossly. "Another way of keeping everyone dependent on her. We think I'm able to go longer because I was already feeding less often than you and Peter."

"I'm working on it, though," Peter put in. "At first I could only go three days, and that was pushing it."

I stared down at nothing, simultaneously thrilled and disturbed at the thought of feeding less often. To spend more time free of the emotional pain of feeding was a glorious prospect, but every part of me except my gift rebelled at the thought. I wanted _more_ blood, not less. If I didn't have my gift to complicate things, I'd be draining whole villages right now.

"But don't you… want it more often?" I asked. "I mean, now that you're free, there's nothing really stopping you, is there?"

"I don't _like_ being a monster," Charlotte frowned. "It's quite nice to be able to go a few days without killing. It helps us forget, for a while, what we are. To just be…."

"Human?" I offered, wrinkling my nose.

"Ourselves," Peter said firmly. "Not who she made us to be."

That was good enough for me. "Maybe I'll try it too," I said hopefully. "Hunting a little less often." I thought about telling them about my unique difficulty with feeding, but I wasn't quite ready to share that. Peter knew about my gift, and he had obviously told Charlotte everything he knew- I didn't begrudge him that. But he didn't know what my gift did to me when I fed. He had seen me feed a few times back with Maria, but I had always managed to keep it together those times, at least on the outside. Maybe it was just stubborn male pride, but I didn't see the need to broadcast my private suffering. It was also a vulnerability, and while I knew I could trust Peter and Charlotte, old habits die hard.

And so I tried. I made it a good thirty-two hours before I started seeing jugular veins every time I looked at the forks in the trees, and then I figured that was good enough for a first try. Peter and Charlotte were politely impressed, and I vowed to make it a full forty-eight hours the next time.

I didn't make it. Charlotte wanted to stop in Denver the next day so she could get some new pants. As we had always done while with Maria, she generally got her clothing from her prey. But she hadn't eaten anyone her size for a while, and she said she felt like having something new anyway. To my amusement and Peter's, she decided to march right into the city in the middle of the day and _buy_ the clothes. It was cloudy enough, and she had collected a fair amount of cash from our last couple meals. She even had a smart pair of sunglasses with which to hide her red eyes. I examined them curiously, wondering how the weak-sighted humans could even see out of the dark lenses. At any rate it was one of the few recent human inventions that might actually came in handy. _If_ I ever got myself under control enough to walk among humans while they were out and about in the daytime like that. Peter thought it might look odd to be wearing sunglasses on such a cloudy day, but Charlotte reminded him that humans weren't really all that bright and she doubted anyone would notice.

"Maybe she'll pick a dress this time," Peter muttered hopefully as we watched her scamper into the city.

I turned and smiled to feel his love, feeling it stretch and extend forward as he watched her disappear into the jungle of houses and telephone lines and automobiles directly in front of us. His and Charlotte's desire for each other had been growing over the past two days. It was a beautiful thing, nothing like the frantic, angry coupling between random newborns that sometimes ended up happening the night before we drove them into battle. And this time I had the advantage of not needing to stick around to babysit anyone. I thought maybe I'd better make myself scarce for a while.

"Think I'll spend the rest of the day in the suburbs out that way," I said, waving a hand vaguely toward the sunset. "Want to meet back here around midnight?"

Peter couldn't have hidden his relief, not even if I wasn't an empath. "Sounds good. But I thought you were going to try to make it until tomorrow?"

"I don't think _you_ can make it until tomorrow," I smirked, nodding toward the direction Charlotte had disappeared in. Peter gave a bashful laugh and grinned toward the city again, looking for all the world like a schoolboy who'd just been awarded the honor of carrying a stack of books for the prettiest girl in town.

I took my time, picking my way through the scraggly brush that lined the highway I was following. I curiously watched the automobiles zooming past me, surprised to find that they were going _so_ fast I couldn't discern the emotions of the drivers and passengers. I wondered what it would be like to drive an automobile; how fast could they go? Other than the speed it didn't seem too appealing, what with the noise of the engines and the stink of whatever fumes were belching out from under the lids that capped the front of each machine. And they seemed to break down pretty often too; in just my short walk down this particular highway I had already seen two automobiles washed up on the side of the road, their owners scowling down into the engines.

Why were the humans in such a hurry anyhow? Why did they prefer these unreliable contraptions to good, solid horsepower? My fingers twitched at my side, recalling the reassuring feel of gripping the reins. I supposed, if you only had a few decades left to get things done, you might want to be in a hurry, though I didn't recall feeling that way as a human. I had always loved to ride at a gallop, but it was more for the thrill itself than for the purpose of reaching my destination any quicker. For what must have been the thousandth time since my change, I wished that I could ride again. But that was one of the many curses that came along with this immortality; horses were just as afraid of our kind as any animal. I wondered why that was, though? It wasn't like any of us were going to eat them.

The sky was fairly dark by the time I made my way into one of the humans' neighborhoods, despite the fact that it wasn't long past midday. The clouds were low and heavy, hanging over the town like a bad omen. As I slunk through a thin stretch of woods lining the backyards of one street, I noticed that the humans seemed to be feeling the dread of the storm pushing down on them. What was wrong with everyone today? My mood went south with every house I passed, and my throat burned accordingly. When I found a woman working out in her yard alone, I snatched her deeper into the woods and didn't remember my goal to make it forty-eight hours until I had already drained her. My failure, combined with the usual side effects of feeding, left me in an even fouler mood than before. _It was her fault anyway_ , I thought testily. She had no business being out in her backyard this close to the woods, especially not in November or December or whatever it was these days. I buried her deep, working out my frustration on the earth and then dumping the corpse into the hole with a tired salute. I guessed I'd try again tomorrow.

Maybe.

The humans' emotions hadn't improved either. All at once the mood in the nearby houses altered wildly, shifting from dread to horror in the blink of an eye. I ran down the line of backyards, eager to escape the bad air. This was exactly the kind of emotional environment I had left behind, and I didn't ever want to feel it again. What could have possibly happened to make the humans in three separate homes get that upset all at once? The weather was just as menacing, though nothing had changed in the last few minutes. Maybe they were all related and some relative had died. I didn't think they could have discovered the disappearance of the female I had killed yet, at least.

But the more I ran, the more I realized that something big was going on. House after house was lit up with fear and horror and anger. My curiosity finally overcame my own dread and I inched closer to one of the houses. I was just able to see the humans inside; they were all bent over a fancy radio, the oldest male fiddling with the dial. Finally the crackling sound coming out of the speakers stopped and a man's voice came through:

_Yesterday, December 7, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan._

_The United States was at peace with that nation, and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation with its government and its emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific. Indeed, one hour after Japanese air squadrons had commenced bombing in the American island of Oahu, the Japanese ambassador to the United States and his colleague delivered to our secretary of state a formal reply to a recent American message. While this reply stated that it seemed useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations, it contained no threat or hint of war or armed attack._

_It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time the Japanese government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace…_

The man kept speaking, but I backed away breathing hard, pained by the humans' horror that kept rising exponentially as the speech went on. Two of the ladies in the house were crying now, and one of them was so overwrought that she wasn't breathing right. As the speech went on, telephones all over the neighborhood began to ring. I backed further into the woods, wincing as I fought to keep the emotional flood at bay, and yet too fascinated to fully retreat. I had known, from glances at newspapers and snatches of other radio reports lately, that there was another war on. Mostly in Europe, I had thought- there was something about Nazi Germany, at least. But I had never looked at a map or globe since my change and I didn't quite recall where Japan was. Somewhere in Asia, I remembered vaguely, but what did that have to do with Germany? And I hadn't thought the United States was even in the war, so I was as surprised at the humans to hear about this attack.

The speech went on for a few more minutes. It turned out that the attack on U.S. soil was actually far out on the Pacific Ocean, one of many carried out in the last twenty-four hours. I finally divined that the speaker was President Roosevelt himself. It was a good speech: concise and controlled but full of fiery words meant to rally a nation of listeners to outrage and approval of his appeal to Congress to immediately declare War on the Empire of Japan.

Judging by the humans' chatter with each other and their telephones, it sounded like they had known about the attacks since yesterday, but that the news reports had been so garbled and contradictory that nobody had really known what was going on. It seemed most of them had been assuming, or at least hoping, that things weren't nearly as bad as some of the rumors made them out to be. But it was all official now, and the inevitable conclusion was obvious: the United States was going to War. One interesting line near the end of the President's speech caught my attention.

_With confidence in our armed forces, with the unbounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph - so help us God._

It was at that moment that the emotional tone of the neighborhood began to shift again. There was still an overwhelming sense of horror, but it was as if the President's words had flicked a switch in the hearts of his listeners: fear began to give way to courage. Useless worry began to burn with energy and determination. The directionless fretting was quickly transforming into a passionate, righteous anger.

I drew closer again, my gift stretching out hungrily. This was something I hadn't felt in a long, long time, and it felt good. It would be a lie to say I cared about the fate of the United States as a nation, especially considering the fact that I had once considered her my enemy. This war was a human concern. No, it was the emotions themselves. I wasn't sure what to call it, what they all came together to form... patriotism? Whatever it was, I was surprised to have a few new human memories unearth themselves as this forgotten corner of my heart was reawakened. I was riding at a thunderous gallop toward the enemy, my heart ablaze with this same righteous anger, tinted with the very same fear as I drove my mortality to the brink. Another memory blinked into focus: I was seated with my regiment around a campfire, leaning forward and grimly sharing the outrageous news that the Federals had dared to set foot on Texas soil. And another, earlier one: standing at attention in line with other new recruits, my chest bursting with shiny brass buttons and glittering pride as I wore the uniform for the first time.

I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of the memories in harmony with what the humans were giving me now. I hadn't realized how much I _missed_ this. I had spent nearly a century now fighting a war that wasn't my own, on behalf of a woman I didn't love, for the sole purpose of her worn-out vendetta against a vampire I had never even met. Sure, I had taken pride in my victories for a while, but that sense of purpose had grown stale fast. I pushed Maria out of my mind and latched onto my new human memories again, squinting my eyes shut even tighter as I struggled to discover other ones like those. I was rewarded with a new scene, though it was foggy. I was on horseback again, waving my saber and shouting hoarsely in triumph as I watched a decimated force of Yankees retreat into a mountainous landscape. I opened my eyes, surprised to see those very same mountains right in front of me. A thrill shot through me at the familiar sight, and the memory came more into focus. I could smell the gunpowder and the sweat of my horse, could hear the thunder of hooves as we pursued our enemies. I could feel my heart beating wildly with victory.

I shook my head and smiled wryly. I must be mistaken; there was no reason I would have come this far west in the Civil War. I had always fought for Texas. But details aside, the emotions were real enough… so very real. It was like it was yesterday. Heartbeat or not, my chest was heaving with the glory of the memory.

I was so close to the house now that my hands were pressed against the siding. One of the women, the one who had been hyperventilating earlier, turned around and gasped to see my face at her window. I hissed an oath and ducked down, shooting back into the forest before she could blink again. But she slipped easily back into her hysterics, pulling her reluctant father away from the radio and screaming that the Japs were _here_ , that she had seen one in the backyard. I chuckled and withdrew deeper into the trees while the father harrumphed in disbelief and made his way to the back door, rifle in hand.

That was my cue to leave the neighborhood altogether, I supposed. It was annoying and amusing all at once to do this, to actually give way to the humans and flit like a ghost around the edges of their world. I could kill that whole family in the blink of an eye, if I chose. I probably should, considering they had seen me. My throat burned at the prospect. But like Charlotte had said, now we were free to take back those small parts of ourselves that Maria had driven out. The decent parts. This family, mere humans though they were, hadn't seen anything that screamed "vampire". She thought I was Japanese, for heavens' sake. I moved on and left them in peace.

For once, it was a shame to leave the humans' emotions behind. But this was their world, their war… their sense of purpose. Not mine. This was my world now: the shadows. At least it was a friendlier world than I had thought. I still couldn't wrap my head around the picture that Peter had painted: a whole _free_ vampire civilization, scattered lightly around the globe. Ancient covens, lonely wandering nomads, regional feuds like the one I had thought was the whole world up until last week… even a little vampire army, to patrol that globe and keep the peace.

I was nearing the end of the little section of woods I had consigned myself to. But it wasn't nearly time to meet Peter and Charlotte, and this part of the woods backed up against a new row of houses. I wasn't surprised to feel the same slew of emotions over here. I scoped out which house had the most pleasant emotions. There was a woman kneeling in prayer in one of the rooms, and a young man pacing in his upstairs bedroom, his heart afire with that sense of glorious purpose that I liked- and hunkered down for the rest of the day, sitting with my back against a dead oak and my hands hanging uselessly about my knees.

I supposed this would be my place in that new world: to wander, to feed when I had to, to keep myself as fulfilled as I could by borrowing the emotions of others. That was it. Hardly an inspiration, but I guessed it was worlds better than the eternity Maria had signed me up for.

There was a growing knot of anger in my stomach, building with the newest wave of indignation coming from the house. _Maria_. I glared over toward the southern horizon, feeling for the first time an undiluted desire to kill her for what she had done for me. I had always known that I was little more than a weapon in her hand; her disdain had been obvious even before I had learned to wield my gift. I had known that she had chosen to end my human life for her own means. I had known from the start that her advances, and the parody of love we had shared for so long, had never been genuine. I had long ago come to terms with her lies, at least the ones I didn't know _I_ was busy falling for. But to think that she had ruined my existence, for her own ends, when it _wasn't even necessary_. There _was_ no vampire war covering the earth! She could have swallowed her anger over the loss of her mate and moved on, or at least wrought her vengeance however she saw fit without ruining _my_ life just in order to gain a few inches of land toward it. I burned with anger to think of how many other lives she had ruined that way.

Just as it would be a lie to say I cared about these humans, or the fate of their precious Union, it would be a lie to say I had cared about all the vampires who had lived and died under Maria's lies in the years I had been with her. I had learned very quickly _not_ to care. I was the one ending their miserable lives anyway, as often as not. But now, to learn that _they_ could have been free, too… that burned. I thought of Noah, still down in Mexico—so skinny and skittish and unfit for war. So like Charlotte… or rather, Charlotte the way she used to be. She was free now, in every way. She had taken her place in vampire "society" as a nomad, happy with her mate and fearlessly exploring the world that awaited her. I didn't care much about Noah himself, but why couldn't he be free too? Why couldn't all of us be free?

Could we?

What did it mean, to be a member of this new world I had suddenly found myself a part of? Did we have any rights, as individuals? There must be some degree of order, if there were laws and a military to enforce them. I would never have imagined one vampire lifting a finger to help another, uniform or no… but then, Peter had done just that, for me. We might be monsters in the shadows, but it looked like our dead hearts could be inspired by freedom nonetheless. He would never have done something like that before. That was what was different about him, I finally realized. It was the _freedom_ that had changed him, just as it had changed the love he shared with Charlotte. It had given him the right to face the future with his head held high and even do something as selfless as he had done for me. Who would have thought our kind were capable of such a thing?

It was a shame that the vampire army—the Volturi's Guard, Peter had called them—weren't able to keep a better handle on the world they supposedly ruled. He was right; it was just too big. Even with that world shrinking as it was, with the telegraph and the railroad and the telephone and now the radio, there were still vast distances to be covered. Peter had said that they had come at least once to clean up… what had he called them? The _Southern_ Wars. Even Maria had told me as much, veiled in lies as all her truths were. But this was just one little corner of a big world, and I had a feeling that most vampires didn't own a telephone. It sounded like rumors and reports travelled by word of mouth, and only when two nomads happened to cross paths. It might take centuries before the Guard learned how bad things had gotten down here again. Meanwhile Maria and Lorenzo and whoever else actually existed were free to continue their deadly game, soaking the ground of Central America with blood and venom as they pleased.

The young man suddenly flung open the door of his bedroom and marched down the stairs. His indignation was at a fever pitch now. "Mom," he barked out, and the lady that had been kneeling in prayer bounced up and met him in their parlor, or whatever they were calling that common room these days. "I'm going to enlist," he announced, his courage suddenly faltering as he faced her. But he had made up his mind. "I'm going to sign up tomorrow morning. I'm going to join the Navy and send those Japs back to Hell!"

I winced as the mother's horror took on a whole new flavor. Once the shouting and crying began, I decided it was time to move on once again. Luckily the clouds had finally let it loose, and I walked right out onto the street without fear of discovery; the humans had too much on their minds to bother about a drowned rat loafing down their street. It was too bad; that young man's fervor was exactly the sense of purpose I liked to remember feeling. I sampled the emotional climate of a few more houses, disappointed not to find anyone else ready to sign up. That kid was on his own. But I knew the human heart well enough to know that this scene was repeating itself a hundred times, a thousand times in homes all across America right now. That was exactly what their emotions had made me remember: that righteous, indignant anger when your homeland was invaded... the feeling of jumping up to do something about it. The thrill of coming glory that made a young man's heart race with excitement as he got ready to take on the evil in the world. _Sic Semper Tyrannis_ , I thought bitterly: one of our favorite battle cries in the Confederate Army. _Thus always to tyrants._ Well, the South had lost the war long ago, and that had turned out for the best. But that rallying cry had been picked up by many a youth throughout history, I was sure. Young men—and even women, nowadays, I supposed—who saw a need and filled it, who refused to abide the injustice they saw and asked themselves who was going to save the world, if not them?

Who was going to do something about the Southern Wars, if not me?

I froze with my foot half-advanced, shocked at myself. I hadn't been out in this new world a week- who was I to think I could make a difference? But it made sense. I had just been moaning about two problems, when the truth was that they could solve each other. I had been fuming over the injustice done to me, the injustice still being done to an endless supply of vampires who were ignorant of how to help themselves. And I had been pining for the good old days, back when I had felt I had a purpose. The reality was that there _was_ a need to be filled, and I could fill it. There was an injustice in this new world—in _our_ world, I thought hotly—and I was just the man to help bring it to an end. I didn't waste more than half a second on the delusion that I could go down there _alone_ and do anything of use. I didn't hate my existence nearly enough to blow it on a suicide mission like that. And I couldn't ask Peter and Charlotte to help me. They had already risked everything for me once; they deserved to live their life in peace, exploring the world that was calling to them.

Three wouldn't be enough anyway. The Volturi needed to be informed of the situation, and that meant somebody had to go inform them. I had information- names, locations, and heaps of eyewitness evidence to the atrocities that were being committed here in the western hemisphere. I would be able to lead them straight to the hornet's nest, if they would have me.

 _If they would have me_.

After all, what would I do with the rest of my eternity once I had discharged my duty on this point? I just been filling myself with the emotions of measly _humans_ when what I really wanted was my own fulfillment—my own sense of purpose.

I would forever be grateful to Peter and Charlotte. But their life wasn't for me; I could tell that after three days. Wandering aimlessly and poking around in libraries was their style, not mine. I had always been a part of something bigger—first in the Confederate army, and then in Maria's army. The second had been a poor imitation of the first, in terms of meaning. What if I was being given a third chance this time, with this new freedom? The Guard sounded like they could use another seasoned soldier. The thought of having that meaning again, that sense of purpose and chance at glory, lit my heart on fire in a way I hadn't felt in a very long time.

* * *

**Important note: If anyone's feeling uncomfortable with Jasper's nostalgia for his days in the Confederate army, please be assured that it's just part of the storyline and the development of his character. I do feel that his days with Maria (and her very diverse army) threw his old beliefs about race, gender, etc. out the window, but his still feels nostalgic for the regimental life he lived and the feelings he remembers... at this point in the story, at least.**


	5. Destiny, Interrupted

**Somewhere in the United States**

**Alice POV (visions in italics)**

_"_ _Emmett," Edward said, pressing his lips into a thin line of tolerant impatience. "You just asked that woman where the bad monkey is."_

_"_ _No I didn't, I asked her where a restroom is."_

_"_ _Then why is she imagining rabid monkeys? Honestly, we've been in Sweden for over two weeks now and yet-"_

_"_ _You wanna know what I'm imagining right now?!"_

_Edward snorted. "That's not anatomically possible."_

_"_ _Would you two cut it out?" Rosalie sighed, adjusting her hat carefully. "Let's just figure out where we're going to ride out this last bunch of sunlight. You can be juvenile later."_

I giggled, drawing the confused attention of the other shoppers. I was having a sunny day too, so I was strolling absently through a ladies' boutique, blindly running my fingers through a silky row of sleeves as I watched my family. They were just so funny sometimes! And when Edward and Emmett descended into little-boy mode, I could always depend on Rosalie to speak for me.

"Miss?" The salesman, a grumpy moustached man who looked like a ferret, was frowning down at me. "Are you going to try something on?" This was his third hint in the past half-hour; time to move on.

I pouted and walked out of the boutique, keeping well under the shade of the awning that loomed over the neat little row of shops. I had already spent as much time as possible in the first three, and there was no point in going inside the barbershop. I hoped the clouds would rescue me soon, as I certainly didn't want to spend any time in the cigar shop down at the end of the row! But I still had a record store and a shoe store, which made for a good solid half-hour; I was saving the shoes for last.

I swept through the future again, seeing the clouds return in what _felt_ like less than an hour. So that was all right. Record store first. The bell jingled high above my head, immediately joined by a lively song being played over the speakers. It was a lady singer, someone jazzy, but I was never interested enough to tell them apart… Rosalie would know. I hummed along, not really paying attention to the music or to the records my fingers were flipping through. Jasper was fighting with Maria again today- or rather, _not_ fighting, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. When they stared at each other like this, looking like they were each waiting for the other to say something, it made me nervous. Sometimes it led to bad things. Well, it was going to be a good thing in the long run… because it was almost time. As soon as the clouds came, I was going to run out of town to Our Tree and wait, because I was _sure_ it was going to be tonight. Jasper was going to run into Peter, and I had some very promising new visions of him standing in places that didn't look like Mexico soon after that. They were blurry, but I had never seen them before. It was making the Diner picture clearer than ever. So this was it, I was almost sure- Jasper was going to be free!

Jasper and Maria finally ended their staring contest, and I relaxed. I followed Jasper for another minute, but there wasn't much to see, at least not much good. I saw him in battle for a moment, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. I saw Maria dead, broken to pieces in his hands, but then that was gone too- though it had been coming up a lot lately. Then he was running, then he wasn't… it all blended together into a gray mash and then he was just standing there doing nothing. And then he-

_Jasper, locked in a snarling death grip with Maria, both their teeth scraping at each other's necks. One of the big newborns was coming up behind him…_

I gasped and dropped the record in my hands, but the vision was already gone. "Stop it!" I hissed under my breath, reaching down to pick it back up. Maria this time, I was sure, cooking up something nasty and changing her mind again… why didn't he just _leave_ her already?! Or kill her, or whatever he needed to do. Tonight couldn't come too soon. I closed my eyes and reached into tonight, relieved to still see him surrounded by tall buildings. He was standing on a roof, and I saw a girl standing nearby. She was small and thin like me, her light hair cut short and messy. She was standing right beside Peter, her hand in his. She looked familiar…

"Can I help you, miss?"

I turned away from the store owner, absently replacing the record into its stack. "Charlotte," I finally remembered out loud. She had been one of Jasper's soldiers a few years ago. What did she have to do with any of this? But judging by the way she was glued to Peter, they were together… but I anxiously backed up, focusing my power to a sharp point to see Jasper _now_. He was still standing there doing nothing, looking so _miserable_. I wanted so badly to reach up and erase that line of worry between his eyes… or pain, or whatever it was today. Maybe he was thinking about leaving tonight.

I flipped through more records, smiling as I saw that Carlisle and Esme were doing the same thing, only it was nearly sunset there now, and all the record jackets were in Swedish. If they were going to be there for a while, I really should learn it myself. I tried to sound out the words on the record Esme was holding, earning more worried attention from the store owner.

Why did they always look at me like that?

"I'm fine," I said sweetly, sticking out my tongue the minute he turned his back. I lagged a few more minutes, alternating between what Jasper was doing right now, what he would hopefully be doing tonight, and watching Rosalie. She was searching through a pile of scarves, holding each one up against her face at a time and turning to Emmett for his opinion. He looked like he was going to fall asleep. Now that would be a good trick!

"The blue one," I murmured. The store owner turned and kept staring at me this time. He was going to ask if he could help me again… oh well. Shoes were more fun anyway. But the shoe store was tiny and empty- no good for the listless staring-into-space that I would just end up doing. I went in and stared at shoes for a few minutes, and when the salesclerk looked the other way I took off my own shoes in a flash, replacing them with the nearest pair that seemed to be the right size. I slipped my old shoes into the empty box and was strolling onward before the clerk's next heartbeat thumped. She smelled _good_.

"Nothing today?" she asked pleasantly as I slipped back out the door.

"Come on," I sighed, staring up at the clouds. At least there was a little bench before the cigar shop, so I sat and waited, trying to focus on the wretched stink of the cigars instead of the appetizing human back in the shoe store. Wouldn't it be nice when we were all together! I had a vision once of Rosalie and I smiling together in a shoe store. She looked like she was laughing, pointing down at my feet for some reason, but it was so blurry I couldn't see why. Someday!

The weather was much better in Mexico today. Jasper was staring up at the sky now, looking worriedly at the swirling darkness that was getting closer. If he was thinking about leaving, why did he look so upset? I wanted to jump up into his arms and pepper his face with kisses, telling him how proud I was that he had finally decided to leave, and that everything would be all right. Now if he would just _do_ it!

The sun finally winked out of sight and I took off. The shoes were half a size too big, but at least they didn't fall off this time. Still, they were slowing me down. I wished I could just throw them away, but I tended to get even stranger looks when I showed up in public with bare, filthy feet. So I generally ended up carrying them with me, ready to wear the next time I felt like wandering among humans, because if I wore them all the time they'd just wear out too fast. Someday, I was going to have a closet.

I was soon snug in Our Tree, waiting to see what would happen with Jasper tonight. I had found this little forest-on-a-hill when I first arrived in Oregon, and this tree had seemed just right. I liked to wedge myself in this little crook between the lower branches, and right across from me was a matching seat for Jasper. I was going to bring him here one day. We would sit across from each other, barefoot and lining up our toes together, and he would smile and laugh and lay back against his branch without a care in the world, just watching me. I liked to pretend I had a vision of this happening, but I didn't. Sometimes I just had to make it up. I closed my eyes and stretched my feet out, pretending I could feel his foot on mine. Maybe he would decide to come over to my side of the tree, and I would know ahead of time and dart out of the way so I could pounce on him from behind. He would laugh again and spin in the branches to hold me.

_"_ _Peter?"_

It was time. I drew my knees up to my chin and locked my arms around them, holding my breath as I watched Peter and Jasper walk closer to each other. I couldn't hear everything they said- they were whispering, and Peter couldn't seem to make up his mind what to say because his voice was stopping and starting several times a second. I knew it didn't sound that way to them, but at least he could have practiced ahead of time for _my_ sake!

_"_ _She lied to us, Jasper. The earth is NOT covered with swarms of vampires locked in eternal war."_

What a silly thing to say! Of course it wasn't. I had never run into a single vampire, and I had been alive for twenty-one years now. A few times I had smelled something sweet, too sweet and strong to be flowers or baking cookies or whatever the humans thought smelled good- but I really didn't _know_ what vampire smelled like. I had never seen myself meeting anyone during those times, and so I didn't. Our world wasn't very crowded, it seemed. So why did Jasper look so surprised? Peter talked on, and I focused as hard as I could to follow along with every word. He was telling the story of when he ran away five years ago- one of the most frightening nights I had ever had. Maria had been very, very close to killing Jasper that next day, and I hadn't been able to do a thing about it. I shivered as I remembered the visions of the flames swirling, swallowing him up. It had been so bad that I had lost the Diner for several hours. I had lost everything, even the family. Even myself.

 _Pay attention_ , I scolded myself. Maybe I would get a clue where he was headed. And then, maybe, just maybe, the visions would let me decide to go to him this time. It was worth a try. But for now I waited, straining and listening. Jasper listened to Peter, still wearing that shocked expression. Peter looked like he was getting nervous; he wanted to leave already.

"GO!" I shouted, nearly falling backwards out of the tree. I caught myself against his branch. "Go with him! Now!"

_Jasper nodded. "And I'm coming with you."_

That was all it took. Jasper was running and I was standing up in the tree, my nails digging into the bark in excitement as new visions burst into being.

_Jasper, Peter, and Charlotte running with the sunrise off to their right._

_Jasper held a dead human in his hands, his face wearing the usual expression of pain._

_Jasper leaning back against a tree, his eyes closed and the sun glinting on his scars._

_The Diner. The colors were brighter than before._

_Jasper and me, kissing, half buried in a snow bank._

_The Family Portrait- Esme had a yellow dress this time._

_Jasper with golden eyes, snarling but happy in his play-fight with Emmett. Edward shouting something in mid-laugh._

_Rosalie, Jasper and Emmett, sitting in a schoolroom._

I held my breath, taking it all in. I had never actually had a vision of Jasper in school before- that was totally new! I had seen some version of all the others before, especially the Diner and the Family Portrait. But they felt more real this time! The images were crisper… more sure. After the unbidden visions slowed down, I began to cast into random points of the future, trying for more. I saw a few more blurry pictures that nicely confirmed we were on the right path, and then I backed up again, hoping to pinpoint where Jasper would be soon. I gritted my teeth with effort, flipping through dozens of useless pictures that held no lettering of any kind. I finally saw a green sign, far off in the distance over Jasper's shoulder, but I couldn't read it because the vision was too blurry and it was too far away. Next I seized onto the Diner vision again, straining to read signs or license plates outside the Diner window.

Nothing. Well, not yet. I would keep waiting, it seemed. I sighed and leaned back into the tree, running my fingertips over the damaged bark where my nails had been digging in. "I'll bring you here someday," I promised aloud. "Soon." I stared, picking at the torn wood for a while, then sat up and carved a heart onto the branch. "A + J" went inside it. The humans did this sometimes, and I thought it was adorable. Why not carve it on rock, where it would last longer? But then most of them were probably outlived by the tree they had written their love on. Well, not us! I would bring him here, and we would find our initials… hopefully they wouldn't have grown more than a few inches higher by then! He would smile when I told him about today. "It was the day you left Maria," I would tell him. "I watched you run North, and I made this for us to find again one day, because I knew we would be together. I knew I would bring you here." He would tilt his head that way he does sometimes, and he would say…

I didn't know what he would say. For all my visions, I didn't really _know_ my Jasper. He spoke so little these days, mostly barked commands to the newborns or terse answers to whatever Maria was ordering him to do. He had been happier, for a while, when Peter was there. Everything had gone downhill since then, and he spoke less and less. What was going on inside that head of his? Why had he stayed with Maria this long? Why did he look so surprised tonight, when Peter told him that it was safe to leave? Had he really thought he _couldn't_ leave, until now? I squirmed in the branches, wondering if I could have done something over the past years to help this day come sooner. But it was too late for all that, and it didn't matter anymore- he was free now! I would never have to see him die again. I would never have to see Maria again! And once I taught him about feeding on animals, I would never have to see him hurt again. I wouldn't even have to reach out with my visions- I would just reach out my hand. He would be beside me. I would be wrapped in his scent- I was sure it was a wonderful scent. And once we were ready, we would go Home. We would finally have our family, and our life could begin.

But for now, I would keep waiting. I would soak up every vision I could find, and make up those I couldn't. I hadn't actually _seen_ Jasper here in Our Tree with me, or any of the other special places I had ready, dotted across the country. But I knew I would take him to every one of them. I didn't always need visions, because I had hope. So I knew we would be here together someday, because that would be a beautiful thing, and our future was full of beautiful things. So when the visions didn't dream them up for me, I did the dreaming.

Sometimes you have to make your own destiny.

.

.

.

Jasper didn't do much interesting over the next few days. He was either running or feeding or talking with Peter and Charlotte, or just standing there doing nothing. But it was enough to see him so relaxed. I even saw hints of a smile now and then. I longed for the day I would really get to _see_ his smile, to reach up and touch it. I had seen visions of him looking down at me with his hands on my shoulders, his whole face lit up with this _huge_ grin- it was a lopsided grin, always bigger on the left side. That was what I couldn't wait for!

But for now, this was enough. He still seemed cautious, reserved… but already he held his shoulders less rigid. He almost looked happy, even though I knew one day he would be much, much happier. When he and Peter and Charlotte would talk, I listened as closely as I could.

I hardly ever got the full story when someone was having a long talk, whether it was Jasper or the family… and the more people there were, the more muddled it was. I had pretty good luck with Carlisle, though. He actually seemed to decide what he was going to say _before_ he said it, which was quite thoughtful. But Jasper and Peter and Charlotte were like the others, deciding what to say as they said it, or speaking so fast that I often missed a few words, or I heard too many words and couldn't pick out what was actually being said. Sometimes I missed everything altogether if they were speaking too quietly. But I learned a lot now, listening in. Peter spoke about the Volturi, a vampire army that wore cloaks and kept our world in order. I wondered if they were the cloaks I had glimpsed once in a vision during my first year- it was that day I was so thirsty I decided to run straight into a city and drink everyone. I had seen a fluttering cloak, dark grey, and then everything had been lost, just for a moment. I turned around, my future returned, and that was that.

I liked to listen to Charlotte. She spoke a _little_ more slowly, and she was better at telling stories. I heard about some of the places she and Peter had visited, and other vampires they had met. And I heard something even more interesting. On the second day, Jasper said something to Charlotte about feeling the humans' emotions, and then again once when he was talking to Peter. He talked about emotions like they were a real thing you could touch. Now I remembered hearing him speak to Maria about emotions a few times, too. She hadn't seemed like the type to care what people felt, but she had always listened to him when he talked about it. I wondered about that. I had so many things to ask him! I didn't even know how old he was, or where he was from, or what his human life had been like, or anything like that. I didn't even know his last name. Although I didn't know mine either, so that was all right.

When Jasper was doing less talking and more wandering, I would focus back on what the family was doing in Sweden. On the third day after Jasper left Maria, Carlisle was keeping me well entertained because he was stealing things again. I had seen him break into places before, and it was just so _funny_ , because he was a doctor and it must feel so odd for him to dress up in black and be a petty thief! I watched as he silently crept through an office in the middle the night- I supposed it was night in Sweden- and dig through drawers and file cabinets. He collected a thin stack of papers and put them in a black bag, pulling out a little packet of powder and a jar of water. He mixed them together into a nasty paste and smeared a glob of it onto a little block of wood that had been sitting on one of the desks.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, laughing. I wanted to peek ahead, but then the surprise would be spoiled. I waited along with him- he kept looking through drawers- until finally he picked up the messy block of wood. He carefully peeled away the glob of paste, which seemed harder now. Oh, so that was what he was up to! He held the block of wood upside down now, revealing a red rubber stamp with some raised letters on it. In his other hand was the hardened paste. It was plaster, or something like that, and it was now imprinted with the exact reverse of the lettering on the rubber stamp. He must be preparing to make some of those papers he made sometimes- false papers so that he could work as a doctor, so my sister and brothers could go to school, so Esme could drive the car, and so on. I liked to watch him sometimes in his study, conducting surgery not on humans but on documents. I wondered what false names Jasper and I would go by someday, when it was our turn. I wondered if this- Carlisle getting Swedish papers and the stamp- meant that they were going to settle in Sweden? There was a War on, after all, and they hadn't done school or work for a while. It was funny having them on the other side of the world, with the sun shining there when it was still night here in America. I hoped they kept moving, because they were so much more interesting when they travelled.

I switched gears to check on Jasper again. He had been exceptionally lazy this afternoon, just hiding in bushes and watching humans go about their business in their houses. I loved doing that too- watching people, making up little stories about their lives, imagining the day when I would have a home with my family, and _we_ would do all sorts of interesting things. It was lovely to see Jasper being lazy; he had always worked so hard, and hated his work all along. He deserved to rest for years and years. With me, preferably.

He was still people-watching. He was standing in the afternoon shadows behind a little row of houses, watching the humans move around inside with curiosity written all over his face. I smiled and imagined I could reach up, turning his face down to look at me. _See, I told you it would be all right_ , I wanted to say. _There's a whole new world for you out here. And I'm waiting for you… I will always wait for you. Come and find me!_ I imagined dancing away, twirling and laughing, and he had to come find me. It was true enough, after all. Now if only he would _realize_ he was looking for me, then maybe we would get somewhere! But even as I ached with impatience, I was happy for him right now. I had faith in the visions… in our destiny. It would come.

But destiny was a fickle thing. I smiled once more and left Jasper to people-watch, going back to Carlisle to see if he would steal anything else. But instead, my visions swam before my eyes and I felt that uncomfortable sensation of briefly floating free as something Changed. I grabbed onto the branches for support- I was still in Our Tree- and opened my eyes, using the real horizon to steady myself while the horizon inside me settled into its new shape. Something was different. I frantically zeroed in on Jasper, only to find him still people-watching, though his face had changed. He looked angry, and yet excited at the same time. At least he was safe, but what was he thinking about? I shot ahead to the Diner, because that was what I always did when he scared me like this. As long as it was there, everything would be all right.

But it wasn't there.

My mind fell to its knees, scrambling and picking up the scattered pictures that I cherished every day, only to find them all erased. Everything with the family was gone, even the Family Portrait. I stumbled back through time, afraid of what I would find, but I had to know. I took a deep breath and opened myself to Jasper's future. In place of the visions I knew so well, I found a whole new set of images, some of them uncomfortably clear.

_He was swimming, no land in sight._

_He was in a tiny room. Everything was metal and too small, and he looked nervously toward the door._

_He was wearing some kind of military uniform, but he was standing in a dark alley, his face impassive as he faced a pair of male vampires. They were wearing cloaks._

_He was wearing a cloak. He stood alone in a corridor, staring intently at the wall._

_He was dying, screaming in a burst of flame. A male vampire with slick black hair looked on, indifferent. There was something wrong with his face._

_His teeth were bared as he fought, but it wasn't Emmett. It was one of the vampires from the street corner… the big one. Jasper didn't look like he was having fun._

_He was torn to pieces, but there was no fire to be seen._

_He was on the floor, curled up in a ball and trembling._

_He was grinning, but his eyes were still red. Was he truly happy or not?_

_He was running, a look of murder and fury on his face. He was feeding from a big furry animal… or was he fighting it?_

_He was standing in a long dark room with two rows of soldiers, all wearing different uniforms. Another male vampire was there, tall and thin with white hair._

_He was burning again. No, the fire was behind him… he was walking away from it._

_He was kissing a female vampire, but it wasn't me. Her back was up against a stone wall._

_He was alone in the dark, looking as miserable as ever, his hands laced together at the back of his head._

_He was smiling. His eyes were golden and gentle, and he was looking down at someone. Was it me or not?_

_He was walking through a street at night, wearing a cloak. The big male vampire walked with him._

I couldn't take any more than that. I forced my eyes open and found myself lying on the ground under Our Tree. I had fallen out… or maybe I had fought my way out. The tree was as mangled as the future, huge branches torn away and laying scattered around me. I had wood splinters under my fingernails. It felt as though the world was spinning.

"Jasper," I whispered, closing my eyes again. "What are you _doing_?"


	6. Anchors Aweigh

**Jasper POV**

I reached the rendezvous point an hour before Peter and Charlotte were due back. I paced listlessly around the little dip of land we had chosen, threading my way among the tree trunks and second-guessing my plans even as I hammered them out.

My biggest problem was that if the rumors were true, the Volturi lived in _Italy_. That in itself made the whole thing feel insurmountable. I knew every rock, tree, and ditch in the wilderness of Northern Mexico, but I was sketchy on the geography of the United States in general, especially outside the South. And here Italy was on the other side of the world, with an ocean in the way. And there was a war on, brewing hotter every minute, it sounded like; I vaguely remembered Italy being mentioned in some of the newspaper articles I had glanced over in recent months, enough to know that I'd be walking into a human war zone. And while it would likely take me years to sift through the lies and truths that Maria had fed me, I knew one thing: human war was a smorgasbord for vampires, its casualties a glowing invitation for them to come and dine. Who knew what kind of local vampire trouble would be crisscrossing the European continent right now? At best, there'd be any number of what Peter had called "nomads" scrounging around, ready to pick a fight to protect their claim. At worst, the human conflict could have spurred a local vampire war similar to the one I had just excused myself from.

Hopefully not the latter, if the Volturi were anywhere nearby. And if Peter was right, then maybe crossing paths with these nomads wouldn't necessarily lead to trouble. But the distance! How did a vampire cross an ocean? How did I even reach the ocean in the first place?

And what if I did make it to Italy? For all I knew The Volturi were away or had moved on by now; Peter's news was all secondhand, after all, and probably out of date. And even if by some miracle I did manage to find these Volturi and their Guard, how would I be received? I was, in a sense, an outlaw. I never should have been changed in the first place, at least not for the reason I had been. And for the past eighty years I'd been an active participant in an illegal war... a high-ranking officer, committing war crimes of my own. In human wars, at least, the enlisted men were always excused for their part, but the higher ranks were held accountable to some degree. How would they see my involvement, once I disclosed it? My scars spoke for themselves. There was the possibility that _I'd_ be the one on trial within minutes of my arrival... or worse.

But I had three things going for my defense: my ignorance, my intentions, and my information. The first might be hard to prove, but I hoped the second would cancel any doubt. I had left the Wars the instant I'd learned the truth, that I didn't have to participate. I had every intention of obeying the Law from now on, as least so far as I knew how. And the fact that I would be making this effort to help them set matters right in the South- and atone for my own innocent crimes in the process- should speak for itself. And what I had to offer... well, I hoped that would be enough in itself to ensure an attentive audience.

It was obvious, from Peter's account, that the Volturi's Guard was treading water when it came to managing the vampire world and its trouble spots. It may well have been decades, even centuries, since they had fresh news about the Southern Wars. They certainly hadn't come knocking in my time that I knew of, and that was nearly a century in itself. That led me to conclude that their sources were few and thin, and that nobody else had recently done what I was considering. Which meant that even if I, personally, wasn't given a warm welcome, at least I'd still be able to do some good in the process.

But was any of it worth the risk and the trouble? Was it worth doing at all? I didn't have to go to Italy; I didn't have to go anywhere. It sounded like most of our kind were wanderers, hunting and playing and lounging wherever they pleased. And the soldiers I'd left back in Maria's camp were even more worthless. Why should I stick my neck out for them? Even if my plan worked perfectly, by the time I made it to Italy and back with the Guard, ready to set them free, they'd most likely already be dead. A new batch would be up and running. Sure, maybe that batch would be free, but for what? To wander and hunt and do nothing? That wasn't exactly the inspiration I needed to pull this off.

But the thing was, I wasn't sure I could stand to live like that, myself. To just wander and be an observer, to lurk in the shadows, harvesting emotions and blood? To be completely without a purpose for the rest of eternity?

I caught my reflection in a sheet of glass that had formed across a puddle. I honestly didn't _look_ like anything more than a vagrant monster, all rags and scars and a smear of blood across my cheek and down my shirt from the lady I'd killed earlier. I looked exactly like the future that was staring me in the face, if I chose to do nothing. _Good for nothing._ Less than worthless; it was a step above slavery, but it wasn't much. I stood up straighter and lifted my chin, trying to imagine myself in a uniform again, or a cloak, or whatever those Guards wore.

Why shouldn't they want me, after all? They were obviously short on manpower, as well as information. And while I knew my measly eighty years were probably just a drop in the bucket to the vast age that stood behind the institution, I came with more than my share of experience- in battle, but also as a commander and instructor. Even if my specific knowledge about the Wars would soon become obsolete, especially if they acted quickly on it, there was at least a decent chance that I'd have earned my place with it... proven my worth. And then I'd have a purpose. A reason to exist.

Was that all this was about? Did I want this purely for my own restless need to be useful... maybe reclaim a little of my lost honor? Or did I truly care about the freedom of those I'd left behind... those Maria and the others would continue to enslave? Or was this about revenge, pure and simple?

It didn't matter, I decided. Any of the three were reason enough. I had to try. If it came to nothing... well, I'd cross that bridge when I came to it. The trying in itself was enough for now.

Feeling invigorated, I kicked through the ice and splashed the dirty, frigid water up onto my face. I cleaned off the blood, using the tiny mirrors of the scattered ice shards, and then took stock of myself. I'd need new clothes soon, especially if I was going to be making a run for the east coast. And I wouldn't have a stockpen full of humans to pick through, either; I'd need to be careful with the clothes I had, and find a male my size to drink next time. My height had always made that a challenge, though it didn't trouble me to go around with pants four inches too short.

I carefully peeled off my shirt and washed it as well, though I barely managed to exchange the blood for the dirt. This kind of thing had never bothered me much before, but now I wrung out the cloth with distaste, resolving to at least clean up better if I made it to Italy. I would need to do what I could to improve my image, if I wanted to make a good first impression. I scrubbed around my neck and my torso with another splash from the puddle and then gently shook the shirt back out.

I turned as I dragged the wet fabric back on. Peter and Charlotte had arrived, and were walking toward me with awkward expressions and an air of embarrassment. I smiled and tugged my shirt down, coming out of the trees to meet them. It wasn't like they hadn't seen me shirtless a hundred times before; the way clothes got shredded in training, I hadn't even bothered to wear one half the time. Or maybe this was just the way vampire couples blushed when they came off one of their many honeymoons.

I felt a pang of sadness as we moved on together, talking about the weather, the news we had each gathered about the War, and where our next destination might be. It was obvious that retrieving me had just been one stop on a westward journey, and that meant it was already time to part ways. I thought they might come with me if I asked, at least as far as the coastline. But I preferred not to tell them about my plans at all; who knew what this all might come to, and I didn't want them to worry or feel any obligation. They had done so much for me already.

"I was thinking about heading east," I said casually.

Charlotte smiled, shrugging like she didn't care where the wind blew her. "All right. Anything in particular you'd like to see?"

I shook my head, the sadness welling up inside me. That had come too easy. "I appreciate everything you've done for me," I said, meeting both their eyes in turn. "But I think I'd like to do some travelling on my own for a while."

"We didn't mean to make you feel unwelcome," she protested, instantly worried. "We just need a little private time now and then, is all-"

"It's not that. I mean, no, I wouldn't like to be a third wheel for the rest of eternity, although I'd like to travel some more with you both... sometime. I'm sure we'll meet up again before too long. It's just that..." The lie flowed easily, because it was partially true. "Well, after everything... I'd just like some quiet for a while."

Peter watched my eyes for a moment, silently challenging my apparent change of heart. I hadn't _said_ I would be travelling with them for the unforeseen future- "a little while" could be interpreted any number of ways, particularly among immortals- though we'd all assumed the parting wouldn't come this quick. But he knew me well enough to know that when I didn't feel like explaining my decision, I wouldn't.

We spent the evening and the rest of the next day together. We lingered around Rocky Mountain National Park, playing in the snow and chattering about nothing and promising to find each other again someday. There was really no way of scheduling or even ensuring such a meeting, especially when I hoped to be otherwise occupied from now on. But even if I did join up I was sure I'd make my way back to the northern U.S. eventually, whether in the line of duty or on leave. That didn't mean I'd ever find them again, but it'd be a comfort to know they were out there.

It was hard to say goodbye. In a few short days I'd come to love Charlotte's cheerful wit; she felt so much _brighter_ than before. Her emotions were like a healing balm to my hurts, whether she was loving Peter or marveling at snowflakes or just lost in a book. And Peter had become a better version of himself; still my brother in arms, still my friend, but now out living his life with the simple pride of a man who has everything he needs, and knows it. I was surprised to find myself actually envying their love. They had already found their purpose: each other.

Charlotte surprised me at the very end, running into my arms and giving me a gentle hug. "Take care of him," I ordered her, and she smiled up at me, her face scrunching up to cry at the same time.

Peter came with me the first mile so we could say our own goodbyes. There really wasn't much to say- Peter wasn't one for words when it came to how he felt- but we both understood. We'd been through hell together and seen each other through, and that bond would hold strong for the rest of eternity.

"If you ever need anything..." Peter began, but trailed off with a wistful smile; we both knew how unlikely it was that even if we did need something, it'd be near impossible to find each other after this. But it was the thought that counted. I nodded, infusing him with my own brand of assurance, the highest compliments I could muster: my trust and my gratitude. He nodded back, but frowned. "Just one question. Where'd you get the new scar?"

So that was what he had been mulling over all day. He had seen it, a new jagged line of stripes down my back, when they had found me putting my shirt back on last night. I hadn't planned on volunteering this; there was no need.

"It was after you left," I said vaguely.

Peter frowned, feeling impatient. "How long?"

"About six hours."

Peter swallowed, nodding. "I always wondered how she'd taken it, when you let us go. I didn't want to ask in front of Charlotte. I..." His gratitude grew and trembled, tinged with guilt. "Thank you."

"You're the one who came back down into hell to get me. You'll never know how much that means to me." _How it's inspired me._ I clasped his shoulder and we shook hands.

And then I was trudging through the snow, alone for the first time in either of my lives... truly alone. I glanced back at Peter's retreating form and took a deep, steadying whiff of the two precious scents that would soon fade from my clothing. Then I turned toward the rising moon and began the adventure that was calling to me.

.

.

.

My first order of business was to get my bearings. This was one trick I had learned in my brief time with Peter and Charlotte: just follow any major highway across a state line, and there'd often be a visitor center just across the border, stocked with maps. After some trial and error, I found an interstate and crossed into Kansas. It took a long time, what with the snow and having to keep out of sight of the cars. I didn't bother so much about that when the sun was down, but daylight found me constantly ducking in and out of the trees that lined the highway. They grew thinner and thinner until I was forced to pick my way through fields just to the south of the highway. I gave some thought to the possibility of commandeering a vehicle of my own, but I hadn't the faintest idea of how to operate one, nor did I know anything about traffic laws.

I spent most of the following day studying my maps and planning my next move. It looked like it would be simplest to stick to I-70 for most of the journey, but I didn't relish the thought of dodging cars for that long. I decided to follow the highway in the end, but always staying a bit to the south of the actual road like I had been doing in the past few hours. If I kept in earshot of the constant hum of cars going at highway speed on my left, I should be able to make most of the journey without having to worry too much about the humans, and I'd be able to go much faster. I also memorized the towns and cities that looked to fall along my route, trying to guess which places I would need to stay closer or further from the highway based on population; I'd have to pick up more detailed maps as I got further east, but that shouldn't be any trouble.

Once I was out of the snow I picked up into a run. The days and nights began to blend together as I travelled, the landscapes flashing by in blurred colors. I rarely had to enter any towns of substance; even in the winter there were enough reasons for the humans to be scattered all over white spots on the map. And a good thing too, because it wasn't until somewhere in Missouri that I managed to find a male tall and lean enough to provide me with a decent set of clothes. It was silly to bother about such a thing, especially when my running would wear away the fabric soon enough, but I did. Now that I was looking forward to cleaning up- for good- I was tired of looking like a corpse all the time.

It wasn't until I hit Louisville, Kentucky that I realized I had taken a wrong turn. Every city had so many interstates growing out of it that I must have picked up the wrong one somewhere. But I was still heading east, so that was all right. I decided to stick with whatever highway that was off to my left. I finally realized that the roads themselves had these little signs every now and then to _tell_ you what highway you were on. It turned out I was on I-64 now, which as far as I knew would keep on going east for a good while.

It took me straight to Richmond, ironically enough: the old capital of the Confederacy. I hadn't ever visited it before, at least not that I remembered, and I didn't have much interest in it now. I had gotten and studied a new set of maps, so I slowed down and explored the coastline for a couple days. There were only two ways I could think of to get myself to Italy: to swim, or to stow away on something headed to Europe. And swimming was out; I didn't know scratch about navigation at sea, and I would have nothing to feed on. That left me with the stowaway option.

My best bet seemed to be Norfolk. It was home to a booming Naval base, crawling with humans in various uniforms. The harbor was loaded with ships of all sizes coming and going. They all seemed to be in a mad scramble now that the U.S. was officially going to war; bad for security, good for me.

I waited until nightfall and crept inside the base. Everything seemed to be under construction and there were piles of raw materials lying around everywhere. Despite the frantic coming and going of endless soldiers and the guards on duty, it was a cinch to keep hidden in the shadows between the crates and scaffolding that littered the huge docks.

I spent the first half of the night observing the habits of the docks' guards and everyone else who was running around. I also observed what I could about the various ships and boats that were docked. There were three good-sized vessels nearby that were getting a lot of attention: a big iron capsule-looking thing that had to be a submarine, a medium-sized ship that sat heavy with artillery, and a bigger one that looked similar in purpose. The smooth line of the harbor was also interrupted by an extra length of dock that had little airplanes lounging all over it; maybe this served as an Air Force base as well. I stared curiously at the fragile airplanes, watching as the humans fussed over them; I had always pictured them being bigger in person. What would it be like to drive one of _those_? And how did they have enough fuel to get anywhere worth getting to?

After a while I realized that the submarine was mostly having things taken out of it, not having things put into it. So that wasn't likely to be my ride. Probably a good thing; I didn't much like the idea of being packed into an iron box, even if it came full of prey. I needed a ship where I'd be able to move around easily, if I was to avoid being discovered. And I needed to be able to dispose of my prey en route. I imagined it would take weeks to reach Europe, if not months. I'd have to follow Charlotte's example and train myself to feed as infrequently as possible.

But none of that would matter if I got in a boat that was going the wrong way. There was nothing for it but to get a hold of a soldier and ask. I thought through the manifest of the humans I'd been observing, deciding that one of the guards would be best. An absence might be discovered much sooner if the human had been in the middle of some important, immediate assignment. There was one guard I had seen stroll very closely past my hiding spot about a half hour ago. The bonus was that he was nearly as tall as I was.

I was in luck; he passed by again before the hour was out. I nabbed him so fast I could have done it in broad daylight and no one would have noticed. In a flash I had him pressed up against a wall, my feet pinning his own feet and one hand clenched around both his wrists.

"Quiet," I hissed in his ear, keeping my other hand clenched over his nose and mouth. "I'll only let you breathe if you can be quiet." He squirmed against my grip for a few seconds, his eyes widening in panic as his face turned purple. I nearly started feeding right then, but I needed information. I swallowed and flushed him with as much calm and acceptance as I could manage. Finally he sank into my arms, nodding weakly.

I pulled my hand away just a half-inch, waiting while he gasped for breath. "Now," I said, staring into his eyes. He stared back, too scared to do anything else. "I want to know if any of the ships out there are headed to Italy. Quiet now!" I backed my hand away from his face another inch, but tightened my grip on his hands so he'd know I meant business. He crumbled down into sitting, still staring up at me in hypnotized fear. Now he was _forgetting_ to breathe.

Oh, for heavens' sake...

"Look," I told him impatiently. "I'm not your enemy. I'm an American. I'm in trouble with the law and I need to leave the country, and... I have some relatives in Italy. I just need to know which ships are going there, or near there. Preferably this week. Speak up!" I added sharply.

"I... I don't know, I j-just-"

" _Which ones?_ " I demanded again, looming closer. He squeezed his eyes shut; that seemed to help.

"I don't k-know! I just got transferred here... I think... I think the aircraft carrier, it's shoving off near dawn, North Atlantic, been some trouble with U-boats attacking merchant ships..." He started to cry, filled with guilt and horror turned on himself, and on me.

"What's an aircraft carrier?" I sighed, internally squirming against the rising flood of his toxic emotions. This was exactly why I didn't like to engage my prey in conversation.

I felt his right hand fight to free itself, so I let it go. He shakily pointed toward the airplanes. I took a closer look and realized why the airplanes didn't need to carry much of their own fuel. It wasn't a dock at all; it was one enormous rectangle of a ship. Well, good enough.

His uniform was the best fit I'd had in a while.

.

.

.

I had two more humans and dumped all three into the harbor before slipping on board the aircraft carrier. I was uncomfortably full, but I hoped it would last me a few days. Once I started feeding on the crew, things were going to get dicey. At least I had managed to keep the uniform clean, and my hair was nicely tucked up into the cap.

It took a while to work my way past the crewmen down into the lower levels. I found a nice hiding spot in a junked-up storage room; it seemed to hold mostly spare parts and backup food and medical supplies, so I doubted it got too much traffic. I did some reorganizing in the darkest corner of it, barricading myself behind nearly a ton of heavy-looking machinery.

The only downside to my temporary home was that it sounded like I was directly below some of the crew's quarters. It had been fairly quiet at first, but as dawn approached the ship began to fill up with humans, many of them stopping in their assigned quarters to drop off their gear and chatter with their new roommates. But that wasn't all bad; at least I'd have their conversation to help me pass the time. Their emotions were a little close for comfort, but as spacious as the ship was, I doubt I'd find a better hiding spot that would afford me any further distance. In any case, the overall effect was positive so far. There was a general whiff of anxiety, but I felt confident that would settle down after a while. For the most part, I was more than happy to share in same patriotic aura that I'd stumbled upon the day that Pearl Harbor was attacked. And this time, I was relieved to genuinely share it.

Our departure was delayed a couple of hours; the three disappearances had already been discovered. But it didn't seem to occur to the humans to perform more than a cursory search of the ships themselves, which I thought was pretty stupid; although to their credit, they hadn't yet realized that the three disappearances meant three deaths.

We finally shoved off around ten o'clock. I could barely feel the movement of the ship, it was so huge. But being on the lowest level, I soon had a front-row seat to a symphony of machinery, lapping water against the hull above me, and the muted babble of the crew as they went about their business. It was all so surprisingly _peaceful._ I could still feel a small crowd of humans hovering above me: the soldiers who were off duty, I guessed, and were spending their first leg of the journey in their bunks. The jumbled cloud of their excitement cooled and quieted as one by one they fell asleep. I leaned back against the wall of my own quarters and let my eyes drift closed.


	7. Band of Brothers

**Thank you to Haemophilus Leona and the best husband ever for helping with this chapter!**

* * *

I didn't move a muscle for four days straight. I knew I'd have to feed sooner or later, and I knew I probably shouldn't push it to the limit, but the longer I could put off the panic that would begin once soldiers started disappearing, the better. As the thirst grew hotter by the hour, I distracted myself with the human activity that buzzed above and around me.

I learned all kinds of things in those first four days: all sorts of Navy lingo, random tidbits about the war... even some details of the sailors' personal lives. There were three cabins close above me that were especially hard to ignore, in terms of speech and emotion; after a while I stopped trying and just let it all wash through me. I even learned a few things about the pilots that were on board. They were Army Air Force, not Navy, and they seemed to keep to themselves. I was a little disappointed in the indifference the ship's crew seemed to feel for each other overall; it sounded like many of them were just meeting each other for the first time. Maybe it'd get better as the war wore on; it sure didn't sound like it would be over anytime soon. I was also disappointed with the United States, for dragging her feet like this. She was my country now, I supposed, for lack of anything better. How had it taken her this long to get involved?

But it was fascinating to have this chance to catch up on modern events and warfare. If I didn't have the complication of needing to feed soon, I'd be having the time of my life. Less than three weeks ago I'd been resigned to an eternity of emotional pain and constant violence; now here I was, reliving the excitement of a human regiment on its way to glory and catching up on all that I'd missed in the past eighty years. And if this worked, I'd soon be enacting my own mission and finally doing something _useful_ with this eternity.

It brought to mind the only other time I'd ever been on a ship: my last week as a human. I didn't remember many details about that battle, or why a cavalry regiment had been anywhere near a ship in the first place, but I did remember we were fighting to free the island of Galveston from Union occupation. It was the first time, if I recalled correctly, that the Yankees had set foot on Texas soil. I remembered the blaze of anger I had shared with my brothers in arms, even though I couldn't remember most of their faces. There was one face I remembered all too clearly, because I had seen it again on this side of meeting Maria, but there was no point in dwelling on that. I preferred to remember the pride I had carried close to my heart. The thrill of riding across the land I loved... the exhilaration of putting my flimsy mortal life on the line for her. The warmth of brotherhood that bound our regiment together far closer than the pitiful excuse of a family I'd come from. Though I hoped to move on before too long, I was also hoping to feel some of those things again here as the mission went on.

Most of the crew's anxiety had eased already; if anything, disappointment was now the predominant emotion as the humans faced what promised to be an uneventful mission. The aircraft carrier was one part of a miniature armada that was primarily designed to be a show of force; there had been some trouble with Nazi submarines and other nuisances along the trade routes in the North Atlantic. If all went according to plan, their mere presence would calm the waters. They'd sit out in the middle of nowhere, doing nothing, until they were replaced or sent elsewhere. Or killed.

It made no difference to me. _My_ primary emotional state now was quickly turning toward annoyance, because by the fourth day I had learned enough to know that this wasn't going to get me to Italy anytime soon. The more I learned about the war from my fellow travelers, the slimmer my chances looked of reaching the European mainland at all. The U.S. had joined the war, all right, but Italy didn't seem to be on their mind. Japan was their biggest enemy at the moment, because of Pearl Harbor; it sounded like the main brunt of their naval effort was being spent out in the Pacific. But here in the Atlantic the war had been blazing hot for a while now; the Americans were just beginning to insert themselves into the Allied forces and plans that were already in place. So while there might be a few regiments trickling into whatever the Allies had in store for the various Italian fronts, it was worlds away from where I was. Nazi Germany was the more serious enemy in Western Europe anyway, and there didn't even seem to be any plans in the works to invade _anything_ anytime soon, at least not from where this piece of the American Navy sat. The smaller the world got, the bigger its wars got, apparently. It wasn't as simple anymore as locating your enemy and attacking him. There were a thousand fronts scattered over the globe, all crucial and demanding more blood; this mission seemed to rank pretty low on a long, complicated list of priorities. It was just all so _huge_ ; it made the War of Northern Aggression look like a bunch of kids in a schoolyard bloodying their noses.

 _Blood_...

I didn't even know where we were. If I made the effort I could pick up nearly all the conversations on this half of the ship, including the meetings behind closed doors, but that didn't help me much when it came to navigation. There was so much jargon and mathematics involved in the actual operation of the ship and its course that I couldn't make heads or tails of it. And as my throat blazed even hotter on the fourth day, I was losing my ability to concentrate. I was growing angry instead, my hands trembling as they gripped the back of my neck tighter with every hour. I was angry at the ship for moving too slow, at myself for not taking the time to lay better plans, at the U.S. Government for dragging its feet. I was angry at whoever was in charge of Italy because if they were our allies instead of our enemies, this would have been a whole lot easier. I was angry at the damn entire _war_ for getting in my way. Why couldn't the humans just get along with each other? Their lives were so short, so meaningless... why would they want to spend half of it sitting in a tin can floating in the middle of nowhere, when there was an entire _continent_ of blood waiting on the other side of the sunrise? Why didn't they just sit still and let us hunt them in peace?!

By the fifth day I knew my time was up; I had waited too long. I couldn't move now if I wanted to, not without tearing the door off its hinges and slaughtering the first human I found in plain sight of the others. I was curled up in a tight ball now, shivering and burning and seething in fury at what I had gotten myself into. All I could think about was blood now. Blood pounding in the pulses of over a thousand humans crowded around me. Blood sloshing and dripping down the walls and pouring in a river past me... The whole _ocean_ was made of blood, and all I had to do was punch a hole in the wall and I could drown in it forever...

The door opened, and I was saved.

I had my teeth in his neck in an instant; I barely had the presence of mind to fall back against the door to close it as I collapsed, gulping the blood in frantic relief. Even the emotional pain was a relief, slicing through me with its familiar blades. It was worse and lasted longer than usual; I had been so desperate to feed I had forgotten to kill him first. I clenched my teeth and took it, waiting for the horror to pass and for the blood to restore my sanity.

I couldn't let this happen again- letting myself go so long I half lost my mind. Exposing my nature to a shipful of humans wouldn't be a good start to my resolve to follow the Law in its entirety from now on. I had to stay hidden, and that meant keeping my wits.

I moved the corpse back into my corner and waited until the middle of the night. Once it sounded like I had a reasonably clear path out in the narrow corridors, I dumped the evidence into an oversized gunny sack and covered it with a few odds and ends from the stores in the room. There wasn't much I could do about the new bloodstains on my uniform, but if I kept my head down they shouldn't be too obvious. I slung the sack over my shoulder and ventured out.

But for all I'd gathered about the War, I hadn't learned a blessed thing about the layout of the ship; it wasn't the kind of thing the humans talked about out loud. I couldn't go up to the deck the way I'd first come, using those main halls and stairways; they'd be crawling with humans now, no matter the hour. I picked my way through the smaller passages, bearing toward the stern as best I could, but as it was I still rubbed shoulders with three or four sailors. I kept my head down, but panicked when I saw them and realized I was wearing the wrong uniform. Was this even a Navy getup I had on? I had thought it was, since I had gotten it off that guard at the base, but the color was off and it wasn't a jumpsuit like the ones they were wearing. I moved briskly along, not looking back when one them called out to ask me where I was headed with "all that garbage".

There was no use in stripping my prey for his uniform; he was short and tubby. The terrible fit would probably stick out worse than the wrong uniform altogether. I sincerely hoped I'd have better luck with clothing once I was in with the Volturi's Guard. I wondered if they issued uniforms, in addition to the cloaks Peter had mentioned. In the meantime, I'd need to hunt someone more my size as soon as possible. I finally made it up on deck and, once the coast was clear, tossed the evidence overboard.

It took nearly twelve hours for them to notice. His name had been Larry Sanders, I soon learned as worries about his absence began to echo around the ship. Just a nobody, a new recruit fresh out of high school in West Virginia. It sounded like no one had even known him, including his bunkmates, who were on the floor above me and a bit off toward the starboard side. At first I thought I'd gotten lucky there, picking off a nobody... that the excitement would just die down and they'd move on.

No such luck. The asking-around turned into a thorough search of the ship, including my storage cabin. I had less than a second's warning: a too-loud clatter of brisk footsteps and the scrape of the latch opening. I barely had time to cram myself back into my corner. The two officers poked around for a couple minutes; from their chatter it sounded like they knew this was the last place he had been sent. It had only taken them this long to realize he was gone because he had just been getting off duty for the night. One of them nearly found me, but I had done well to barricade myself with objects too heavy for a single human to lift. He gave up and they moved on.

The night after that was a miserable one, sitting there with no choice but to listen to the distressed whispers above me and feel their darkness. Suicide was the most common rumor; it sounded like jumpers weren't unheard of on these type of missions, especially among new recruits who'd never been out on the water before. His bunkmates were already convincing themselves that they'd seen signs of depression or claustrophobia in their "friend" over the few days they had known him. But there was also an element of suspicion threading its way through the ship. A few sailors had been questioned, including the bunkmates, and that was all it took for darker rumors to get started. _I think it was murder_ , I heard more than a few times that night. The other ships in our entourage were contacted, but they reported nothing unusual on their end, and no one had any leads regarding foul play. The mission continued on without any further interruption.

But it was exactly as I had feared. Even after the talk began to die down, the emotional tone of the ship continued to sour. Losing one of their own was causing the crew to forge a new fledgling sense of brotherhood, which in turn made them more upset about losing Seaman Recruit Sanders. And I had no choice but to make it worse before the week was out; I needed to be more careful this time, and that meant not waiting as long. I made it out onto the darkest corner of the deck and waited until I was alone with a tall sailor on the night watch. He died in silence and I had my uniform.

It was worse the second time around. It was the second disappearance inside a week, and this time I had made the mistake of taking a low-ranking officer. The ship was searched again, this time with more vigor. I decided not to risk discovery again; I spent the night suspended over the dark water of the Atlantic, clinging to the hull. I wished I could just _stay_ out here and keep my distance from the emotional fallout, but I couldn't risk it in the daylight because of the other ships.

I barely made it back to my storage cabin before the sun rose, settling in for another day of misery. This time the rumors were bright with panic; another search was soon begun. This was _ridiculous-_ I couldn't keep jumping overboard every time I killed someone. By the time this round of searching made it to my storage cabin, I had cut a trap door in the metal floor of my favorite corner. It was difficult to manage, but I successfully pulled a storage bin over the hole as I climbed inside. It was a tight spot; I barely had room to move without damaging the pipelines that ran beneath the flooring, but it was good enough.

But other than my new hiding place, it got harder every time. For one thing, we reached our destination much sooner than I had expected. The ships slowed to a crawl and began drifting in circles, and the other ships had taken up the habit of scanning the aircraft carrier with searchlights at night, because of the disappearances; I had to take precautions to make sure the bodies sank quickly, and it got tougher to avoid the searchlights. The deck was more heavily patrolled at night now, too. I stretched out my hunts longer each time. Once I was forced to leave my prey dead in his own bunk. I burned the place out well enough, but it was close. That one hit the crew particularly hard; it was the first time they had found a body. They walked through the corridors in fear now, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that there was a killer on board.

.

.

.

The emotional climate was nearly unbearable by the second month. Everyone was having trouble sleeping, and when they did sleep it was often worse. It was almost a relief when one of them would wake up screaming; at least it ended the other nightmares, and their deeper emotions, for a while. It was like the very air in the narrow halls of the ship were becoming choked with fear and suspicion. Two men were in the brig now; their charge was disorderly conduct but everyone knew they were unofficially suspected of the murders because of past indiscretions. I set the record straight a couple days after that, and they were released. Morale plummeted again. The commanding officers were adamant that the deaths were all suicides, even the one they had found dead and burned, but the crew wasn't buying it.

I had never had to deal with this before. It was one thing to suffer the fear of my prey, and it was terrible to share the horror of their deaths, but this... it was a monstrous perversion of the patriotic spirit I had been so happy to feel in the beginning. The crew were banding together in a way I doubted was typical. They never slept alone anymore; some had even taken to sleeping in a big group in the galley. Now even the pilots were united with their Navy brothers in their fear. Everyone was spilling their deepest secrets to everyone else; I didn't know if it was some kind of absolution as they faced death, or maybe just wanting not to be forgotten if they were next. Those that had been taken quickly became heroes, their names burned into my memory along with the stories that were being told about them. I wasn't used to thinking of my prey as _people_ , not like this. My dealings with them had always ended with their last drop of blood... when I tiredly shook myself free of their dying horror.

But now I had a front-row seat at their funerals, such as they were. I found myself forced to kneel at their graves, in a manner of speaking... forced to mourn along with their friends and imagine the details of the lives I had cut short. It was awakening more of my own human memories, and not pleasant ones: riding away from a mound of crosses in the desert. A lad in gray dying in my arms, staring up at me in innocent confusion as his trembling grip on my hand grew weaker. Sitting quiet and close around a campfire with my regiment, drinking a toast to our fallen comrades. The images themselves were blurry, but the emotions were painfully clear... uncomfortably similar to the air I was breathing now. I had forgotten that the sense of brotherhood I remembered so fondly was made possible by the deaths. I had no choice but to listen and feel as the sailors above me mourned their friends and cursed the invisible enemy who had taken them.

"Joe was a good friend," one of them would say, his voice wobbly with tears. "First met him back at West Point- he played basketball, too. We couldn't believe it when we both got the same assignment. We were gonna save the world, you know?" There were murmurs of assent from his friends, two who shared his cabin and one who had joined them because he couldn't sleep alone in his own. "And here we are, no enemy in sight and yet he's just... gone..." This was the part where the emotion made my skin crawl; it was the uncertainty that bothered them the most. Without an enemy to point the finger at, they couldn't make sense of any of it... and that scared them. I would have given them an enemy, if I could, for all our sakes. I had this crazy idea to paint a swastika in the hallway one night, make them think they were somehow being stalked by a Nazi infiltrator... but I didn't want to risk them turning on each other as they tried to figure out who it was. I didn't think I could stand that.

This couldn't go on. For one thing, the rumors were beginning to get uncomfortably accurate. No one had said the word _vampire_ yet, but other words were being thrown around. Haunted. Demon. Ghost. Even _mermaids_ , for crying out loud... that got a laugh out of me, the only one since I had begun this disaster of a voyage. But the fact that more and more of the crew were whispering about supernatural culprits... that wasn't good. And it got riskier every time I ventured out to hunt. No matter what time I went out, I was always passing by the occasional sailor in the narrow halls; it was only matter of time before someone realized I didn't belong here. All it would take was for an officer to call out to me and insist that I face him when spoken to; he'd see my eyes and the name on my jumpsuit, and then I'd have _real_ problems. I had moved camp twice now, so that I wouldn't keep passing the same people, but this was getting out of hand.

My options were limited. I could move to another ship in the entourage, but I had a feeling my reputation, and the accompanying horror, would quickly follow me once the first disappearance was noticed. And the other ships were so much smaller than this one; I would be noticed all the sooner as a stranger in a crew of a couple hundred, versus the couple thousand I had here.

My second option was better in theory, but it was a far more frightening prospect: I could set off on my own. Leave the whole circus behind and start swimming until I hit land. Europe couldn't be _that_ far off, considering how quickly we had reached our destination. And I didn't know a thing about the constellations, especially out here, but I'd always have the sunrise and sunset to help me stay roughly eastbound. It didn't really matter where I ended up; I'd find Italy eventually. But how many days would I have to go without feeding, while I was out in the water? What state would I be in if I went a week with no land in sight- or two weeks? _Three_ weeks?

Maria had used me, back in the 1880s, to experiment on some of the newborns involving thirst and its impact on mental and emotional state; she had wanted to determine what the optimal level of thirst was for a vampire going into battle. They had been restrained for prolonged periods, and I was the lucky barometer who got to feel everything as they slowly lost their minds. Because that was the end result of going too long: especially in a newborn, desire quickly led to irritability, then panic and rage... it didn't take long for them to completely fall apart. At least the insanity was temporary; their sanity and emotional control, such as they were, appeared to be instantly restored upon feeding. But how would I navigate once I began to really go nuts? And what about physical strength? The newborns we had restrained for the experiments had grown weaker and weaker. Never down to the level of a human, but then we had stopped the experiment after finding what we needed; we had never bothered to test whether that degradation might continue as well. That was the most frightening possibility of all: what if I lost not only my way and my wits, but also my strength? The possibility of being lost on the ocean floor for the rest of eternity, insane and burning alive with thirst, made this misery with the Navy look like a picnic in comparison. And besides, even if I did make it to land, I'd probably massacre the first village I came across. Not exactly the impression I was hoping to make on the Volturi.

There was a third option that would probably be the best, if they would hurry up and get to it. A haunted, exhausted ship wasn't much use to the Navy; I'd heard the commanding officers discuss the possibility of scrapping the mission and heading over to Britain to unload and do some real detective work. But it looked to be slow in coming; these days the military couldn't so much as blow its nose without contacting Washington. I had a new appreciation for that vague homegrown feel I remembered from my days in the Confederate Army. If things were shifting and you didn't have time to wait for new orders- since they could only come via a courier on horseback- you made your own. But that was no good here in 1941. The higher chain of command had been briefed regarding the situation, but it was anybody's guess when they'd get permission to abort. At this point I'd be more than willing to head back to the U.S. and stay parked there for the rest of eternity, but that was even less likely.

In the end I decided on the only reasonable solution: switch ships. I chose the next biggest one, a gunboat that always stayed in front. I could hold out another three days, tops, and then it would start all over again. I didn't know how long any of this was going to work anymore; their patrolling was getting heavier every time I fed, and it was getting near impossible to find anyone alone. If they didn't make their way to Britain soon, I was going to have to reconsider the swim.

But that was when my luck finally caught up with me. It happened on the same night I was about to move to the gunboat: something was spotted on the sonar. This was some kind of newfangled device that looked and listened around underwater and was able to spot things that shouldn't be there. It was the main reason I hadn't just ditched the ships altogether and spent most of my time out in the waves away from all the emotional desolation I was causing. I didn't know if something as little as me would be picked up, but I wasn't about to test it when there were torpedoes involved. They had shot one on our first week out, when they had briefly thought they were being shadowed by an enemy sub. I didn't know how fast those things were, and I didn't want to find out.

But this time the sonar had spotted something big. All at once the crew were running and crashing into each other, getting to their assigned stations. There was a hush then as they waited; the ship was so silent that I could distinctly hear the beeping of the sonar coming from the other end of the ship.

"It's gotta be a U-boat," someone finally announced, and I let out my breath along with everyone else, because the emotional atmosphere of the ship suddenly shifted. There was fear all right, bright and cold, but it was carried along in a majestic courage and an all-out righteous _fury_. It was far hotter than what I'd felt from the half-grown boy back in Denver when Pearl Harbor was attacked; this was a bunch of men who were ready and waiting to save this little corner of the world, and had the guns to pull it off. If anything, it was boosted by the weeks of horror I'd set off: they finally had their enemy, after all they'd gone through, and damned if they weren't going to send him to hell right _now_.

"There's two!" another voice shouted, and all hell broke loose again. This time there was a deafening blare and another round of clattering footsteps around and above me. More shouting, though this time I couldn't untangle it from a second blare of the horn.

The Germans shot first, not five seconds later. I didn't hear anything as the torpedo shot through the water and missed our hull, but I heard the warning yells and the muted explosion and then an enormous splash off our starboard bow. A second torpedo followed the first, and that one must have been closer, because a tiny shudder ran through the ship and the explosion sounded louder. That was when I decided I'd rather not sit in the belly of the enemy's primary target and wait to be blown up. I ran down the corridor, not even bothering to keep my eyes down, and shot up the first stairwell I could find that didn't have a huge mass of emotion crowded overhead.

I needn't have worried; everybody was too busy running around to notice a red-eyed sailor who didn't have anywhere to be. The humans darted past me in every direction, and a third blare from the horn made me grab my ears and wince in pain. But another new sound had joined the chaos: the drone of engines. It was coming from the airplanes; the first one was just taking off. From the excited chatter of the men nearest me, it sounded like that second enemy sub had been confirmed, and that there might also be a couple gunboats coming along behind them. I squinted around the horizon in a circle, but I couldn't see anything. A second later another shudder ran through the ship, bigger this time. By the cheers going up on deck, our side must have finally fired a torpedo. I didn't see what the fuss was all about; it didn't seem to be hitting anything.

The first airplane was up and soaring away. I squinted out again, following its course, but there was nothing to see, at least not on the surface. If there _was_ a Nazi armada out there...

For half a second, another possibility had me gripping the rails and staring down into the dark water. Why couldn't I just take this chance and transfer onto an enemy ship? A Nazi vessel would be much more likely to take me to Europe; they'd have to go back home eventually for fresh supplies, if nothing else. And I'd have the advantage of starting over with a fresh batch of prey; my hunting would cause the same cascade of uncomfortable emotion, but at least I'd be setting back the clock at little. It'd take them a while to realize there was a serial killer on board.

But what would it be like, hiding in a submarine? I had chosen the aircraft carrier for a reason. The idea of being packed into a submerged tin can with a crowd of humans, a tight mass of blood and emotion and small spaces... I stared out at the black horizon again, hoping to see some other kind of ship coming for us. Something big.

"Hey, you! Give me a hand with this."

I turned absently, keeping my eyes down as I hefted one end of whatever the human was trying to lug out of the way. He was distracted too, watching the second airplane as it soared down the length of the deck. For a second it looked like it would fall right into the ocean, and then it lifted like a hawk riding a breeze, wheeling upward and eastward. The first airplane was already circling back around, flying low. Something dropped out of its belly; a torpedo, no doubt.

"Did they confirm those gunboats?" I asked the human, keeping my head down.

"Naw, they think it's just the two U-boats," he answered, waving along with the others and speaking over their cheers as they sent off the second airplane. "Boy, if we can sink those two bastards... we need somethin' like that, with the luck we've had."

"Right," I muttered, moving away as his worry took a sharp downward turn. Just submarines, then. How would I even _get_ into a submarine, if it was underwater the whole time?

Another enemy torpedo exploded, but this one had found its mark. The explosion, far louder than the others, was right on our starboard rail, marked by a hurricane of timber and metal and seawater flying up into the air. I was paralyzed for a split second, struck with everyone's panic and a new human memory: feeling this same panic on the deck of a rocking ship, watching in horror as the cannonfire of our enemies tore through the ship next to ours. My friends were running around like ants on the other ship, it was sinking...

I was brought back to reality with a big splash of the water in my face, accompanied by a few splinters that bounced harmlessly off my skin. But I shuddered at the too-salty taste, wiping my mouth and turning around to shield my face from the rest of the debris that was still raining down.

And saw my way out.

It was crazy, but it was the best option I had- a far better one, in fact, than anything else I'd come up with. I took off running back toward the stern, away from the spray of water and debris that was still falling and distracting the humans. The third plane was just turning onto the runway, its rear occupant busily working on switches and things while the one in front did the driving. And another stroke of luck- several small fires had begun to ignite along the line of damaged deck. Most of the humans crowded around the plane began running past me, going to help with the fires and waving at the pilot to go ahead and take off. I ran right up behind the airplane and wrenched open the little glass panel in the rear of the cabin. No time for anything fancy; I grabbed the human by the scruff of the neck, sliced my fingernails through the belts that were holding him down, and dumped him onto the deck just as the airplane began to accelerate. I jumped in and pulled the glass panel closed again, amazed my little stunt had worked; a couple deck officers were just noticing the human lying behind us in a crumpled heap and were waving at the pilot to stop, but he was already gunning the engine and sailing toward the end of the deck. It happened so fast- I felt my stomach lurch once, saw the ocean coming at me, and then we were in the air.

It was a _miracle_. I stared back down at the ship in wonder; it was quickly falling behind us and shrinking in size. A second later, the humans on deck were small enough to be toy soldiers. There was a whole world of black water and sky around me, and I was flying through the _air!_

But I didn't have much time to gape in wonder. The pilot, a sandy-haired man in his late thirties or early forties, sat up straight in his seat abruptly, putting a finger to his headset to listen better. I focused on the muted sound, not able to catch much more than "...rear gunner... return!..." He spun around in his seat and shrieked in surprise to find not his rear gunner, but a pale stranger with dull red eyes staring back at him.

"Who the Sam Hill're you?!" he shouted, jerking back around to adjust one of his controls. The plane had just started to pitch in a new direction, but he straightened us back out with a light touch. I was impressed; considering how anxious he was now, his hands should have been shaking violently.

"Don't worry about that," I ordered, reaching over the little wall that separated us and yanking his headset off. The cord attaching it to the wall looked important, so I snapped it in half. There was a similar headset hanging next to me, so I gave it the same treatment. The pilot finally turned around again and tried to fight me, but I shoved his hands away. "You've got a new assignment now. Head east."

He barked out a nervous laugh, eyeing me once more before turning back around to man the controls. "Okay, son... I know it's been a tough couple months, but this isn't the time for-"

"I said _head east_ ," I ground out, pressing him with a small wave of fear. I wished he'd turn around again; eye contact always helped with this sort of thing. He wasn't even listening to me; he was turning the plane around. Toward the blasted _ship_ again!

I lunged forward and snatched the pistol jammed in his belt. I brought it up to his neck slowly, so he'd be sure to see it, and pressed the barrel into the soft skin over my favorite artery. I hunched forward so I could speak right into his ear. "Maybe you didn't hear me the first time," I said slowly, ramping up the fear more with each word. "I told you to head east. Turn the plane around."

His fear gelled and twisted, morphing into a dark suspicion. He shivered and squeezed his eyes shut. "Go ahead," he spat, letting his hands fall away from the controls. "Shoot."

"For Pete's sake!" I growled, pulling away the pistol and clocking him on the back of the head gently with it. I needed this brainless human to _cooperate_ , not to faint or go down in a pitiful blaze of heroics. I pulled his fear and suspicion away as fast as I could. "I'm not a Nazi! I'm..." My mind raced for half a second, but he had already given me an idea. "Look," I went on, gripping his shoulder gently and adding a tremor for good measure. "I didn't hurt your gunner, and I don't want to hurt you either. I just... I can't _take_ it anymore, waiting and wondering if I'll be next. I _have to get off that ship_."

It seemed to work; he opened his eyes and took a hold of the controls again. "Just calm down," he said, his suspicion changing quickly to relief; he thought I was a madman, but that was apparently better than a Nazi. I grabbed onto the new emotion and amplified it. "We'll get you some help, okay? Just sit back and let me do what I need to do, and then we'll get on back-"

" _No_ ," I hissed, pouring as much human hysteria as I could into the single word. When he didn't reply, I lunged even farther past him, carefully peeling his hands off the wheel-stick thing that looked to be the main mechanism for steering. "If you won't do it then I will, and I don't know a damn thing about flying! What happens when I do _this?!"_ I jerked on the stick, throwing the plane into a wild turn that brought the ocean coming sharply up to meet us.

"Okay, _okay!"_ he shouted, batting my hands away. I let him overpower me, making my hands tremble again. My panic was real enough now; if this didn't work I couldn't possibly go back onto the ship now. It was this or the swim. I pressed my hand up against the glass of the panel I'd climbed in through, ready to bail out if I had to.

He brought us level again, breathing hard as we nearly skimmed the water before gaining altitude again. "Feel free to bomb the U-boats," I offered, hoping to reassure him further than I wasn't his enemy, "but after that we're going east. We land, I let you go. I'll even tie you up if you like, so they'll know you were forced to help me."

"Land on what? The back of a whale?!"

"I know a place."

"If you don't know anything about flying, then how are you going to navigate us toward it?" he snapped.

"Let me worry about that," I snapped back angrily. "Bomb the subs and let's get out of here."

"And how am I supposed to find them?" He grabbed the broken cord that came out of his discarded headset and shook it uselessly at me. I had no answer to that one. He flicked a switch and a huge circle of light appeared on the churning waves beneath us. He cut a wide arc around the area for a minute, looking for telltale signs of a submarine, I guess, but came up empty.

Another of the airplanes seemed interested in us now. The nearest pilot was alternately waving at us and knocking on his ear. "What's that mean?" I asked my pilot.

"He's wondering why he can't hear us on the radio."

"Time to go," I announced firmly, clicking back the hammer on the gun. This time he obeyed without question, steering us away from the fight.

I peered back down at the aircraft carrier one last time, feeling oddly sorry for the men I'd spent the last few weeks with. I realized I wanted them to win against their enemies; after all I'd put them through, it seemed only fair. They had taken another hit, although it looked like they were cheering again. So maybe they'd be all right.

I glanced over the switches and dials and knobs again, annoyed at my own ignorance. My eyes finally caught on a wobbling disc that had an "N" and a bunch of numbers on it; in fact, it had the word "compass" on it, so that was good. I waited until I was sure we were heading east, and then I finally began to breathe again.

"We're going to Britain, right?" the pilot asked.

"Wrong."

The suspicion returned instantly. I needed to be careful; if he convinced himself again that I was an agent from the Axis side of things, he'd be back to his suicidal heroics. Italy was out, then, at least for now. Fine. "Just get us to the French coast," I said casually, staring at the back of his head and feeding him trust. "I'll give you more details when we get closer."

"You know someone in the Resistance there?"

"Something like that."

He was silent for a moment. I watched him carefully, waiting as his emotions stewed and finally settled into an uncomfortable mix of anxiety and pity. "Just think about what you're doing, son," he finally said. "You made a mistake here, but we've all been through a lot lately. If we turn around now, I'll help you talk to the admiral-"

"We're not going back," I said flatly, and he let it go. "I _can't_ go back," I added in a whisper, remembering to keep up my nervous-breakdown act. "Whoever's been killing us, he got my best friend last week. I can't go back there."

"It's a mess all right," he agreed, his fear spiking again. "Say, I haven't seen you around the ship before. You a machinist or something?"

"Yeah. I don't see the sun much." I heaved a shaky sigh, playing with the gun in my hands. I clicked the hammer back and forth, fidgeting and breathing unevenly the way a deranged human might. It made him more nervous, but the pity was growing along with it.

"My name's Steve. What's yours?"

"Jasper," I answered impatiently. Were we going to talk all the way to France? He wasn't nearly frightened of me enough- he must not have seen the red eyes in the darkness. But he was cooperating now, so I thought it best to leave him alone.

"Got any family, Jasper?"

"Just fly the plane."

He fell silent again, his pity slowly turning to anger. I'd have to learn what I could by observing, in case I had to kill him ahead of schedule and take over the controls. But if pity was what it would take to keep him on the job, I'd play along. I wouldn't even have to lie.

"My mother died when I was two," I mumbled, making my voice catch a little. "My sister says our Pap was all right before that, but now he's a mean drunk." Steve's pity shot up nicely; I didn't even have to help. "We raise horses," I went on. "The ranch was always small, but I've managed to keep it going even though my Pap's no use anymore. But it's all going downhill now. Pap and I had a... falling out. It got bad." I paused for effect. "I lied about my age as soon as it was believable and joined up."

"Sounds like you had a lot of responsibility from an early age," Steve offered gently.

"You could say that."

"Where's your sister now?"

 _Long dead._ "Got married a while back. I think she's still in Houston."

Silence.

"Well," Steve started up again. His Southern accent was thickening; apparently I wasn't the only one playing along here. I couldn't pinpoint the accent, though he definitely wasn't Texan. "I bet she's real worried about you. If we can get through this all right, just think how glad she'll be to hear from you. Maybe even have you home next Christmas. It would sure beat this one, wouldn't it?"

"Sure would," I mumbled absently, staring down into the dark waves. I tried, for the thousandth time since my change, to remember Rosie's face. She had been tall, and her hair had been golden like mine, though curlier, and I remembered thinking her chin was stubborn, but for the life of me I had never been able to grab a hold of her _face_. I strained at the image for another moment before releasing it out into the night. "So why'd you join up?" I asked, ready to feel something better.

"Army brat," he said, shrugging like that explained everything. "We lived in Germany for a couple years, back when I was in junior high school. Made some good friends... I hadn't kept in touch, but I think about them every day when I put on my uniform."

I laughed, unable to stop myself in time. "That's your inspiration? For all you know, your 'friends' were on that U-boat back there, firing their torpedoes at us."

"I doubt it. My friends were Jews."

I swallowed, overwhelmed by the anger and grief that filled the cockpit. "Oh."

"It's probably too late for them," he said softly. "But if I can make a difference... well, you know what I'm talking about. How'd a teenage rancher end up working with the French Resistance anyway?"

"Long story." But his suspicion began to return again; I'd have to cook something up. "I was found out pretty quick- lying about my age, I mean. They were going to discharge me, but then I convinced them that if I could pull one over on the U.S. government, maybe they could find a use for me."

"But the U.S. wasn't even in the war until-"

"Not officially," I interrupted quickly. "But I'm sure you've been around long enough to know that's not the whole story." I stirred up the trust again, but I didn't know enough to add to the story; all I had was a few snatches of conversation I'd heard on the ship over the past couple months. "Anyway, I was taken out after about a year. I had to do some things in France that were... tough. They decided I needed something a little calmer, so I got switched to machinist."

Steve whistled low. He was buying the whole thing now; his suspicion was giving way to _respect_ , of all things, though still with a good helping of pity on the side. It made me wonder how differently he'd feel if I didn't have my gift to help the story along. All things considered, I hadn't actually influenced him that much. He was such a decent human; after all I'd done to him and his crew, I almost wished that respect could have been real. That this didn't have the end the way it was going to.

"You'd lived a lot of life for someone so young," he added.

"I guess so."

More silence.

"I have a baby girl," Steve said abruptly, reaching up to touch a crinkled picture that was barely hanging from a nail driven into the wall of the cockpit. He was wearing a dress uniform and a huge grin in the picture, his hands resting on the shoulders of an equally happy young woman with dark hair. The red-faced infant in her arms wasn't quite so happy to be having her picture taken. The air in the cockpit finally sweetened with a warm love.

"She's real pretty," I said dutifully. "Both of them."

His finger fell away from the picture. "She'll be having her second birthday soon. We talked about having another one..." His love soured with anxiety again. He turned his head back toward me slightly, keeping his eyes on the controls. "All I'm saying, Jasper, is that we've both got something to live for. Think about that."

I nodded, staring out the window again and trying to keep my discomfort to myself.

_I'm trying not to._

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**Next chapter: Volterra!**


	8. Volterra

**You guys I'm so excited! This chapter finally takes us into Volterra, though there won't be much conversation until the next one. Once again I want to thank all of you for reading, especially those who have taken the time to review. I always love talking with readers, so please don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts or questions. I'm also more active on Tumblr now (Jessicanjpa) so that's where I sometimes post headcanons and random notes (and answer questions) as I work my way through the writing. It'll be an interesting ride as Jasper's journey continues to diverge from canon. In many ways this next part of the story will be sort of the anti-1950, as he settles into a very different "family" structure and how that might affect things with Alice and the Cullens down the road. (we'll check in with her again eventually, though it'll be a while). Hopefully you can already see the similarities and differences between his Tale of Years journey and this one, especially here with his up-close-and-personal exposure to humans. As nickaroos said in her review to the last chapter, "As much as I like Jasper, it's hard to watch him fight his own awakening." This alternate journey will be a difficult one, but I hope to bring things around to a conclusion that has some surprising advantages to canon.**

**Thank you to mynameisginster for the German translation, to romanianvampirelover (Tumblr) for the French, and to Camilla10 and Raum for Italian translations and helping me out regarding Volterra. I also want to thank everyone who's been helping me catch and fix little errors, from mistyped words to historical blunders. I don't have a beta so I appreciate when readers help me out in that way.**

* * *

We flew on into the night. Steve eventually took the hint from my silence and gave up the attempts at conversation, but not before dropping a few more reminders about how much he was looking forward to seeing his wife and daughter again.

I didn't need his prodding. I was reminded every second of his _humanity_ \- it was pulsing louder and louder with every minute that passed. I had never been cooped up with a human like this before... and it didn't help that I had already gone three days without feeding. The air inside the tiny enclosed space was heavy with his scent now, the promise of his blood lodging in my throat like a firebrand.

I could spare him, theoretically. He had bought my story, and he obviously hadn't seen my red eyes, which were probably closer to black by this point anyway. He hadn't seen the sun reach my skin. He hadn't seen me do anything beyond what a human could do. I didn't know how much of a favor I'd be doing him, dropping him off in occupied France, but surely with the Resistance and all he'd be able to find his way home.

 _It doesn't matter_ , I reminded myself crossly. His small life was already half over- and it was bound to be cut short anyway, wrapped up in the war as he was. But the past few weeks had taken their toll on me, the sailors' grief and their comradery and the stories about the men I had killed... it had all been burning like acid through the callouses that had grown over my heart. I had always needed that protection, desperately, to isolate myself from my victims, whether human or vampire. All our kind needed those callouses, and my so-called "gift" made it even more essential. This was exactly what I couldn't afford to do- get wrapped up in their little lives, start seeing them as _people_. I already suffered their dying emotions as it was. There was no point in adding my own to the mix.

But I was free now. I could never escape the emotional backlash of feeding, but I did finally have the power to act with more decency... maybe even with something resembling honor, now and then, fruitless though it might be. Like Peter had done when he had come back for me. I had, so far, stuck to my resolution to never take children again, and I had mostly stuck to the one about women. There was a quiet, deeply buried part of me that wanted to take this chance I was being offered, too. To give this unlucky human his life back... to set him free, never knowing how close he had come to a horrible, meaningless death. The Law hadn't been broken here; I could afford to be generous. Steve would never know what I had done for him, but I found I liked the idea of showing an ounce of mercy. I liked how the thought of it made me feel.

I looked up at Steve's picture again. I felt a hint of a smile tug at my lips as I pictured him returning home, his little girl running up to him with outstretched arms. Well, I would try. But my throat flamed in angry protest as I peered out at the dark waves that stretched endlessly beneath us. We'd have to reach France soon, or the choice was going to be made for me.

.

.

.

"I could sure use those details now," Steve announced when the horizon was just beginning to lighten. I doubted his eyes could register the change yet.

"Details?"

"Where we're heading."

"French coast," I told him again, staring irritably at the pulsing artery in his neck. I didn't know a single detail about that coastline. "Stay to the... south."

"Of course I'm staying to the south. But where am I going that _won't_ get us shot down?"

I frowned. "They won't have airplanes out patrolling in the dark, will they?"

"'Patrolling'?" he echoed in an odd voice. His suspicion resurfaced yet again. "What I'm saying is, what's the coverage of the anti-aircraft guns? Where's a tower I can communicate with?"

I didn't like the sound of anti-aircraft _guns._ "Just stay to the south," I repeated sharply. "I'll show you when we get there."

Steve's hand lingered on the stick, his breathing uneven. "You've never even been to France, have you?"

I exhaled in surrender. There was no point in getting us shot down just to keep up the story now. "No."

His suspicion sharpened into anger again, though a good half of it was instantly turned onto himself. He didn't move to change anything on the controls, but I could practically hear the plane turning around in his head. Or ditching in the ocean. He drew another breath.

"Who are you, Jasper? Really?"

" _Fly the plane_ ," I hissed, touching the pistol to his shoulder and clicking back the hammer again. "We're almost there, so there's no point in-"

I couldn't believe how fast he moved. He spun in his seat and grabbed the pistol with one hand, twisting hard and shoving randomly at my face with the other. The gun went off before I could pull it back. The bullet flattened itself against my face and fell harmlessly away. It had just barely grazed his fingers, but it didn't matter. Blood was blood. I lunged right past it into his throat and sent us spiraling downward out of the sky.

.

.

.

Flying in the airplane had been a miracle; sinking in one was a miracle too. I just sat there, dazed, as the water filled my ears and my nose and my lungs. It happened so _fast_. Or maybe time had only slowed for me.

There had been no frenzy this time. Just sheer terror suffocating both of us as we tumbled together toward our deaths- and my descent continued long after his had ended. It was daylight by the time I wanted to move again. I busted a hole through the glass panel and kicked off, stopping only to tear away the picture that was still nailed to the wall of the cockpit, fluttering and waving at me to remember it.

The journey to the surface was frightening. It seemed to be taking too long; we were so far down already that I kept losing the sunlight, its teasing rays disappearing and reappearing at all different angles. I finally found the sun itself and sped toward it, breaking the surface with a watery gasp of relief. My body expelled the flood inside me, sending a river of blood out with it. I shivered with rage at myself, squeezing my ribs until they cracked to try and get the last of the water out so I could breathe right.

 _I had to kill him_ , I shouted inside my head. If he had lived another second, he would have seen the bullet lose the battle against my face. He would have felt the inhuman strength in my hand as I snapped his fingers like straw to get the gun away from him. Instead he had barely had the time to see the face of a monster as it came for him. His horror was _still_ twisting in my gut, after all these hours... but I knew that for the lie it was. The horror was my own now. I looked down the picture in my hand, angry at my failure and angrier still at my hope.

It was over. I had, for a few sentimental minutes there, actually thought I could begin to _undo_ what I had become. That I could just recline on the gilded chair of my freedom and wave my hand in manicured pardon, like I hadn't just spent the better part of a century existing as a nightmare... like I was ever going to be anything else.

I shook the water out of my eyes and looked around. There was nothing: no land, no stars, no evidence of Steve or his airplane ever existing at all. Only the breaking dawn stood in the east, guiding me home. I jammed the picture into my pocket and began to swim, swearing to myself with every furious stroke that I would never let my guard down like that again.

.

.

.

It didn't take long; we had come farther than I thought. I crawled up onto dry land and just sat there for a minute, dripping and looking around. I would have to feed before I did anything else; I hadn't taken all of Steve's blood, and most of that had been vomited back out with the sea water. But first I had to get out of sight; there was some kind of bunker just a few hundred feet down the shoreline. I moved at human speed out of their line of sight and then zoomed through a tangle of abandoned shacks until I was safely in the shadows. I followed a dirt path for a while, and it took me to another little hamlet, but that seemed to be abandoned too. The sun was up now, but I found a thickening line of trees to follow that led along another path. Finally I was rewarded by the sweet scent of humanity. Images of Steve's terrified face- and worse, memories of his respect- threatened to swallow up my thirst, and I pushed them angrily aside. But as I drew closer, the scent grew alarmingly sweet: vampire. I retreated, but I was followed by a quick drumbeat of footsteps. I ducked behind one of the buildings and started to make a run for it.

" _Halt!_ "

His anger brushed against me- one of the nomads Peter had told me about, I supposed. I doubted any single vampire would be a match for me, but I felt vulnerable anyway. I didn't know how to handle this, and I wasn't at my peak in terms of blood. I turned and bolted in the other direction. But he was a fast one; he appeared like a ghost in front of me. He was a young man, physically at least, possibly younger than I was. Short but thick and strong in the upper body. No scars. He leaned forward in a threatening posture, but kept his teeth hidden. His anger spiked with fear as his eyes traced over my scars, though he showed none of it.

" _Habt Ihr mich denn nicht riechen können?!_ _Die est mein territorium!_ " he hissed, flinging an arm back north. _"Ich beanspruche die Städte zwischen diesem Wald und dem Meeresarm 50 kilometer gen Süden. Ausserdem die Küste und- "_

"I don't understand you." I held up my hands in defense, stepping backward and pulling his anger down. "Do you speak English?"

He was annoyed, but less angry. He slowed his words, speaking as to a child and jabbing his finger off to the north again. " _Je dis que vous ne pouvez pas chasser ici. Mon territoire recouvre les villes entre la forêt et la crique à cinquante kilomètres au sud."_

I shook my head. "I don't understand that either. _American_ ," I said loudly, pointing at my chest. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, shaking his head too. I tried another angle. " _Habla usted Español?"_

His expression cleared. " _Sí, es mejor_ ," he said in relief, and the conversation slipped easily into Spanish. Some of his vocabulary was strange and he had a funny lisp, but I understood well enough. He repeated what he had been trying to tell me before: his territory covered the nearby coastal towns, stretching from the little forest in the north down to an inlet fifty kilometers away.

"I didn't mean to trespass," I assured him. "I just arrived here in Europe."

"I can see that," he said in wary amusement, looking over my dripping form. "But you cannot hunt here."

"That's fine. Just tell me where I can hunt, and soon. It's been a while."

"Where did you swim from? Surely not the whole way from America?"

I shook my head. "I stowed away on a ship." His eyes glinted with interest, and I had an idea, remembering what Peter had said about nomads being isolated and thirsty for news and conversation. "It was an aircraft carrier, part of the U.S. Navy," I went on. "I even went up in one of the airplanes. I'll tell you all about my travels if you let me have one human. Then I'll go in peace."

He hesitated only briefly. "Very well. Only one, and you stay where I can see you."

"Fair enough."

He led me back to one of the villages and pointed out a little broken-down cottage where an old human woman lived apart from the others. I had my new rule, but this was no time to be choosy. Once I had fed, I kept up my half of the bargain. I really worked to make the tale as interesting as possible, enjoying the storytelling for itself as I hadn't done in years. Who knew when the story might come in handy again, as a bargaining chip? He listened without much interruption until the afternoon, and then told a few tales of his own. His name was Heinrich; the first language he had spoken was his own, German. He had followed the Nazis over into France a couple years ago, claiming these towns and also taking an interest in the guerrilla activity that occasionally buzzed along the countryside.

It turned out he was younger than I was, in both human and vampire years; he had been a soldier in the Great War, which he called the Weltkrieg. He had only been eighteen when his regiment had fallen on the wrong side of a battle. He was left for dead while the fighting moved further away. He had watched in mute horror as a shining angel of a woman appeared in the midst of the carnage and begun to feed on one of his friends. He saw her finish and turn toward him.

"That's all I remember of her," he said sadly, with just a hint of bitterness. "I woke up alone. I never even knew her name, or why she left me alive like that."

"I was changed when I was in the military, too," I offered, and our conversation went on until the sun set again. I didn't know how he'd react to my participation in the Southern Wars or my mission, so I kept the story vague. In return I learned a good deal about the war so far, at least in this part of the world. As night approached I said I would move on, and he asked where I was headed.

"I'm looking for the Volturi."

His ease disappeared instantly. "What's your business with them?"

"It's a personal matter. Are they still in Italy?"

He glanced over my scars again. "Of course they are. They've lived in Volterra for centuries- it's an old walled city about halfway down the western coast. Right in the kneecap of Italy."

I shook my head. "Where can I find a map?"

Heinrich escorted me to the southern edge of his territory, giving me pointers about how to travel without drawing the attention of the soldiers. He didn't know much about whether other vampires were claiming certain territories along my route, though; apparently those things tended to shift a lot during wartime.

"Just feed on humans that are as isolated as possible," he advised. "Then you'll be less likely to upset anyone, or stir up the humans."

His earlier friendliness was already wearing thin, and had been ever since I had mentioned the Volturi. I couldn't get a reason out of him. Maybe with his unusual beginning he had gotten into trouble somehow. He gave me good directions, though, including where to find maps and things. He also warned me that it was illegal to feed in Volterra. We parted on good terms and I thanked him for his help.

.

.

.

My journey through the center of Western Europe was a simple one. I cut straight east into Switzerland and stayed in it as long as I could, finally turning south to enter Italy just to the west of Milan. It would have been more efficient, and possibly easier, to just cross the Pyrenees and swim the northern edge of the Mediterranean, but I wasn't in a hurry to repeat my adventures at sea- and Heinrich had warned me that the Mediterranean was having its fair share of fighting right now.

Instead I took my time threading through bits of wilderness whenever possible. It was the best way to avoid the notice of humans, particularly the soldiers who seemed determined to find me, but it was also a relief to distance myself from their emotions. Never again would I get myself into a situation like the aircraft carrier or the airplane; I had had more than one eternity's worth of being up close and personal with humans. If this thing with the Volturi didn't work out, my travels would be limited to where my feet could take me.

The thought of never seeing America again, at least not in the foreseeable future, made my heart ache. It wasn't so much a sentimentality for anything that I missed in particular; it was regret for the things I had never gotten to see. I had a few human memories of riding with my regiment, but those were so vague and hard to place. I wished now that I had taken my time on my eastward journey through the United States back in December. Even if I did return to the U.S. on a mission with the Volturi's Guard, I doubted I'd have much time for sightseeing- across visual landscapes or emotional ones. Feeling the fearful tension surrounding the rule of Nazism and fascism here in Western Europe, even in the small doses I was forced to expose myself to, made me yearn all the more for the emotional flavors of American freedom I had left behind.

How did the Guard travel, though? I couldn't quite imagine an entire regiment of vampires, no matter how civilized, booking passage on a civilian cruiser. And now that the war was on, surely even they were finding it difficult to get around. And that worried me; there was no telling when this war would end, and when they'd be able to act on my information. I doubted Maria would make any significant changes in the intervening years, but the urgency of my information was half the reason for the mission in the first place. I would find out soon enough, I supposed.

I wanted to make a good impression. As I neared Volterra I conducted a careful search for a human whose clothes would be the best possible fit. I decided to go for another soldier; it made the shopping more difficult but I like the idea of presenting myself in top form. I found what I needed patrolling a dusty town just outside of Florence. It was a dull, nondescript gray suit and visored cap, and the thighs of the breeches looked more like balloons than pants, but it was in good shape. I fed carefully and cleanly, spending the rest of the afternoon polishing the boots to perfection and combing the tangles out of my hair. When all was ready, I was quite pleased with the result I saw in the mirror of a storefront window. And while the gear was useless to me, it felt surprisingly good to wear a starched uniform and weapons again. I had sometimes carried a beat-up pistol in recent years to use as a prop for convincing my prey to cooperate quietly, but this was entirely different.

I reached Volterra just after midnight. It was a picturesque little city, or perhaps a large town, planted on a hill. It was surrounded by walls, its ancient brown buildings looking snug and warm inside as they ascended the face of the hill. I paused outside the sleeping city, feeling a final hesitation; I could already detect at least three distinct vampire scents on the cold air. This was it.

I turned and glanced back at the Tuscan countryside. As with my journey through the U.S., I had cut a straight path and not bothered to stop and enjoy the journey for itself. Once I walked into the city and presented myself, it was possible I'd never have this chance again: to live free and wide. To explore, to come and go on my own terms. There was also the opportunity here to delay my mission for a while, to give that freedom a chance, or at the very least to improve myself before applying. My time on the aircraft carrier had done wonders for my ability to stretch out my feeding, and I had picked up scraps of French, German, and Italian along my journey, but both those things could stand a great deal of improvement still.

I offered the countryside a faint smile in farewell. To delay would mean losing my momentum and my nerve, and I knew it. I'd just have to learn on the job, if they'd have me. The relief of personal freedom was enticing, but the promise of real adventure and purpose was what I wanted. I took a calming breath and climbed the wall.

The city streets were oddly quiet. I had only crossed through a few towns and cities on my journey, and many of those had been in Switzerland, but even I knew this wasn't normal. The military presence in the Italian towns hadn't had quite the razor-sharp efficiency of their Nazi counterparts back in France; though I supposed this was partially due to the fact that they were at home, not in an occupied territory. And yet here there seemed to be _no_ patrols. I had expected to have to weave my way through the shadows as usual, depending on my uniform to get me out of any chance encounters with the humans. But I could have heard a pin drop in these streets. There was the customary background noise coming from the sleeping humans, but even the usual midnight activity of scrounging animals was absent.

It was impossible to follow the trails of vampire scent. They were convoluted and saturated from recent passage. Apparently these streets were heavily patrolled after all... just not by humans. That explained the lack of animal activity, if nothing else.

I memorized the city's features as I passed them by. I knew little of architecture or its history, but the town seemed ancient to my reckoning, if the varied styles of buildings were anything to go by. Besides the handsome towers that the city had boasted from a distance, there were also modern apartments built onto the faces of crumbling stone or brick structures. Timber houses and storefronts of all shapes and sizes dotted the streets, interspersed by newer homes and the odd statue or monument. There were signs of the war everywhere- blacked out windows and some evidence of local stockpiling- but the overall impression was a peaceful one... almost too peaceful. As the vampire scents on the air grew thicker, my instincts grew sharper.

I passed a grand cathedral on my short walk up into the center of the city. I had the distinct feeling that the fearsome stone angels upon its height were _watching_ me as I passed underneath.

And so they were. A few seconds later I felt, more than heard, a presence behind me. I turned and found myself being watched by a pair of tall male vampires, both shrouded in gray cloaks. The shorter one silently beckoned to me and gestured back toward the deeper shadows at the church. I obeyed the signal, moving slowly to match their pace. Their gait was so smooth they seemed almost to glide instead of walk; the edges of their cloaks whispered across the stones, making no other sound. There was no obvious insignia on their cloaks, or markings of rank. Were these the Volturi, or their Guards? Guards, surely, if they were just out patrolling the city like this. They were perfectly calm, walking with their backs to me. Once we were deep in the shadow of one of the church's stone arches, they turned to face me again.

" _Buona sera_ ," said the one who had spoken before _. "Quale è il motivo che Vi porta a Volterra? Volete essere ricevuto?"_

I recognized the first bit as some kind of standard greeting, spoken often between the humans I had encountered in the past few days. " _Buona sera_ ," I repeated, but that was the limit of my Italian. Maybe I should have spent more time learning the language first, after all; surely they spoke English as well, but I didn't want to appear ignorant. "My name is Jasper," I continued. "I've just come from America."

"And what is your business here in Volterra?" he asked, switching to English without even seeming to notice. "Do you seek an audience?"

"I do. I have information that may prove useful."

Their curiosity grew somewhat, though they gave no visible sign. The taller one was eyeing the few scars that were visible on my face and neck. "Where in the U.S. are you from, exactly?" he asked. Even in a whisper, his deep voice seemed to match his threatening size. He had nearly a foot on me, and at least an extra hundred pounds of granite muscle.

"Texas." They waited for more, but I didn't think I cared to give them more at the moment. "I'm also interested in serving on the Guard," I added, soothing the tension that was rising between us. "What's the process for joining up?"

The Guards gave each other a bemused glance. "Follow us," the shorter one ordered, and turned to move deeper into the heart of the city. The tall one waited until I also moved, then brought up the rear. I didn't like the position I was being put into here, but I went along without hesitation.

I observed the vampire in front of me as we walked in silence. He had seemed slight next to his companion before, but he was exactly my height, though broader. His gray cloak was darker than the other vampire's. He walked as if he owned the city, glancing disinterestedly down various streets and narrow alleys as we passed them. He finally took us down one of the alleys and paused inside the darkest shadows.

I looked over my shoulder. "What-"

"Quiet."

We waited for a good two minutes. Finally a pair of humans strolled by the alley, carelessly glancing our way before continuing on. Their uniforms matched my own. So the Italian army did their own patrolling here after all, though still far less than I'd seen in other towns. I wonder if they even realized the difference themselves. We waited another minute and walked on, slowly ascending the hill as we passed through the winding streets.

We came to a city square. It was dominated by huge, ornate buildings, some of which I had seen when I had first approached the city. The grandest one had a clock tower looming over us. It began to toll as we traced the edges of the city square.

But we weren't heading for any of the grand buildings. I was led down another alley that split away from the square. We went deeper into the maze again, the walls looming closer together with every turn. Finally there was an abrupt dead end, occupied only by a dip in the pavement and a huge iron grate covering an oversized drainage hole.

The bigger vampire stepped forward and lifted the grate with one hand, silently resting it back down beside the hole. His companion dropped into the hole without a sound. I followed reluctantly, letting myself freefall into the relative blackness, but my feet hit cement again in less than a second. Once the iron grate was replaced we walked on into the darkness at a better speed. The Guards lowered their hoods. The big one had black hair, cropped short, while his companion's hair, also black, flowed to his shoulders. Their skin must have been darker in their human lives, evidenced by the olive tone to their pallor.

Apparently this wasn't a time for conversation either. I occupied myself by memorizing our route and trying to sort out which part of the city we were underneath now as our path dipped lower and lower. The temperature continued to drop as we descended, leaving the smells and sounds of human civilization behind. We eventually passed through a huge gate of rusted iron bars, pausing only for a second as the shorter vampire slipped a key out from beneath his cloak and opened the padlock on the door within the gate. We entered another room and went through a thick wooden door, and suddenly we were back in the human world again: a plain hallway, carpeted and artificially warmed. Next came a stairwell, an interminable climb, and another human habitat. This one looked to be some kind of reception area, complete with a huge wooden desk, art hanging all over the walls, and far too many sickly-sweet plants. Human scent floated in the air.

We turned down yet _another_ hallway. If it wasn't for the solemn serenity of the vampires escorting me, I would have thought it was all some kind of joke; did these people really spend half their time walking through mazes, every time they went out to patrol or to feed? What was the purpose of the elaborate route if humans had access to so many points in it anyway? There was a pair of fancy golden doors up ahead, but the Guards stopped short of it. A panel in the wall was moved aside to reveal yet another door, leading into yet another stone tunnel.

"Wait here," I was instructed. I was left alone, their dark cloaks billowing silently behind them as they turned the corner out of sight. I guessed that one of them stayed to guard me, since his emotional aura never faded, while the other one presumably went on to announce my arrival.

I waited, standing there like a useless statue, for at least three hours. The guard just out of sight never moved either, or made his presence known. It all seemed a little too theatrical, the secret passages and the mysterious silence and the cloaks, but I supposed the institution was ancient enough to have developed a few eccentricities. And I could certainly appreciate the use of intimidation as an effective tool to encourage respectful behavior. I'd have to pay careful attention to their customs.

The shorter Guard finally returned, looking somewhat friendlier. "My name is Demetri," he said with a hint of a smile. I nodded in response. "The Three have granted your request for an audience. This way, please."

I followed him, surprised. "The Three" no doubt referred to the leaders themselves, the nameless ancient trio Peter had mentioned. After all the pomp before, I had expected more red tape. Well, nothing like efficiency.

The tunnel opened into a large, open room. It was perfectly round, its height punctured by slits up near the ceiling which let in the moonlight. Candlelight also flickered around the continuous bricked wall, illuminating the three vampires who sat in state upon a raised dais. Their robes were black, free of insignia like the cloaks of the Guards. The one in the center, his jet-black hair shining in the moonlight, watched me intently as I approached. His fellows seemed less interested.

I was taken aback by their appearance. They looked unlike any vampires I had ever seen. There was the striking beauty and the pallor, but their red eyes seemed dulled somehow, almost cloudy. And their skin was the strangest of all: it seemed almost transparent, fragile and slightly wrinkled like tissue paper. The differences were most notable in the vampire on the left, while the one on the right looked the closest to normal. His hair was also curiously white, another feature I had never seen in a vampire before. The emotional atmosphere was neutral save for a single source of anxiety: a small female, also draped in a Guard's cloak, who hovered just behind the throne of the vampire in the center. Strange; I hadn't even noticed her when I had first entered the room. There were three other Guards present besides Demetri, though they stood off in the shadows away from the candlelight. One was the enormous Guard I had already met before, though he was nearly matched in size by the other two.

The floor dipped slightly as I approached, and I looked down to find I was stepping on a huge iron grate not unlike the one back in the alley, though its bars were thinner and set closer together. A strange odor, sharp and unpleasant, rose from its depths.

"Jasper, from America," Demetri announced to his superiors with half a bow. He stepped off to the side to give me a clear path. I stepped forward, feeling unsure whether or not I should speak. I offered a stiff bow instead, copying Demetri's.

The vampire in the center clasped his hands together and stood, a brilliant smile lighting up his strange face. He stepped forward to the edge of the dais, surprising me again by offering his hand. I took it, trying not to appear uncomfortable as his steel grip slowly tightened like a vice around my fingers. He held my hand for a full two seconds without shaking it, his filmy eyes fixed on mine, and then he stood to his full height. "Welcome to Volterra, Jasper," he said grandly. "We are so _very_ delighted to meet you!"


	9. Interview

**This one is pretty short, but the next one should be up fairly soon too. It'll be sort of an outtake in Aro's POV, backing up to cover this same scene from his perspective.**

* * *

"I am Aro," the vampire who had taken my hand announced, returning to his seat. "And these are my brothers, Marcus... and Caius," he continued, gesturing toward his right and then his left. He stared at Caius intently for a moment before turning back toward me again with his strange eyes. He was practically glowing with curiosity now, but held himself immobile. He seemed to be waiting for a response. My mind seized for a moment, straining to recall the phrasing of the some of the courtlier manners I had used as a human. The feel of the stiff uniform seemed to help.

"I am honored to have been granted an audience."

"And we are happy to welcome you," Aro answered pleasantly, settling deeper into his robes.

"But what is the purpose of the audience?" Caius asked. "We were told you have some valuable information."

I opened my mouth to begin, but Aro clucked his tongue. "Now Caius, our guest has come a great distance to see us, and during a time when travel is so difficult... at the moment I am far more interested in the tale of that journey, itself, than the reason for it. You must tell us every detail, Jasper, beginning with your journey through the United States."

Caius scowled, though he also was curious. I haltingly began the tale back in Colorado, unsure if they would be interested in that portion. But Aro nodded in encouragement. He seemed studiously uninterested in _why_ I had made that journey, but this was their show. I was unclear as to who was really in charge here, if anyone. Aro was certainly the mouthpiece of the trio, at least, and he seemed to want this first. So I focused on the journey itself, leaving out my reasons for that journey and the gift I had to offer.

I spoke through the night, answering Aro's questions as they arose. He was interested in everything: the organization of the crew on the aircraft carrier, the highway system in the U.S., how the war seemed to be affecting daily life in the European towns I had passed through. He was especially fascinated by my airplane ride. Caius had several questions, too, though his curiosity was mostly confined to the technology and operation of the military forces I had encountered. I now regretted not making a more thorough study of the ship and its systems, so that I would have had more to report. It made sense, in retrospect, that the Volturi would be concerned with that type of thing.

"And now," Aro said when the sun had risen and I had run out of interesting things to say, "the reason for your visit." He glanced over at Caius. "Perhaps a more intimate audience?"

"Leave us," Caius murmured, sitting forward in his chair. The Guards that had stood at attention all night disappeared without a sound. Only the small female, still hovering behind The Three, remained. I wondered what her purpose was- perhaps an anonymous fourth leader? Aro's mate, considering how her attention seemed bent on him? Unlikely, since I could detect no romantic feelings... though those weren't always present in more serious circumstances. Whoever she was, she had certainly paid better attention to my account than Marcus, who was supposedly the equal of Aro and Caius. He had not offered a single question, or even moved or reacted emotionally in any way so far. He seemed to be nothing more than a statue, sitting and collecting dust for uncounted years. I had attempted, throughout my speech, to divide my eye contact equally between him and his "brothers", but I wasn't sure it mattered in his case. He seemed a million miles away.

"The information," Caius prompted once we were alone.

"And where does your journey truly begin?" Aro asked with a knowing smile. "Judging by your... complexion, it would seem you have had other adventures before this one."

I drew a shallow breath, wondering how they would take it. "I was an officer in the Texas cavalry during the... American Civil War. I was taken and transformed in 1863 by a vampire named Maria. She is an... active participant in the hostilities in Central America."

"The famed Mexican Coven," Caius scoffed. Marcus finally moved a portion of an inch.

"Yes. At the time she also shared the leadership of the coven with two other females, Nettie and Lucy, but they're both dead now." Aro's lips twisted in a miniscule smile at this, but he offered no interruption. "I have spent the past seventy-eight years fighting in Maria's army... serving under her lies. Like all her creations, I was taught that the earth is covered in wars similar to hers. That I had no choice but to serve her, or another like her. It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I learned the truth- that 'The Southern Wars' are confined to a limited area. That most of our kind live free."

I paused, taking a quick moment to assess how my confession was being received. They didn't seem to be as surprised or upset as I had anticipated. There was anger boiling in Caius, but it didn't _seem_ to be directed at me. The worst danger was averted, then.

"And now you have come here," Aro prompted.

"Yes. I had heard some rumors about the Volturi during my years of fighting, but I was never sure if there was any truth to the stories. I'm still sorting out the facts from the rumors and the lies, but I know now that the Wars are illegal and that the Volturi military – your 'Guard'- has made efforts in the past to end the conflict." I took one small step forward, standing as tall as I could. "I came here immediately to offer everything I know. Names and personal history of several of the major players. Details and casualties of battles that have taken place since 1863, at least the ones I've been involved in. I can show you the patrol patterns of Maria's army and the adjacent ones, too, as well as the places she most frequently sets up camp. I have intimate knowledge of Maria's priorities and connections, as well as the habits and common battle tactics of at least three other coven leaders." When they didn't respond, I forged ahead. "I know every inch of the local wilderness, stretching from the southern half of Texas down through all of Mexico and most of Guatemala. I've also done some fighting out in the Gulf itself. I can help your commanding officers plan the next operation. In my experience, attacking from the water is-"

"Let me get this straight," Caius interrupted. "You came crawling halfway around the globe to ask us to drop everything and mobilize the Guard to kill your creator for you?"

I blinked, taken aback. "This isn't about personal revenge. I came to offer information and my help so that your Guard can finally achieve an objective they've been working towards. So that the Southern Wars can finally be ended."

"And what _help_ do you think you can offer us?" Caius challenged. "If it took you eighty years to realize that freedom had been a stone's throw away the entire time, then you're not particularly bright, are you? And what makes you so confident of our pardon in the first place? Ignorance is no excuse for nearly a century of breaking the Law!"

I stepped back, shaken, looking to Aro for help. Even if Caius was the final authority when it came to matters of trial, as I suspected he was, Aro did seem to balance him. Was I in danger after all, or was this a test? Aro was perfectly calm, motioning with his hand for me to defend myself. I turned and faced Caius' wrath again, swallowing my fear with an impassive expression. I was used to navigating Maria's spitting rages; this was something else entirely. I reached out with the lightest of touches, calming him down slowly.

"I do not deny that I participated in an illegal war," I said steadily. "But I never committed any illegal acts of my own. My presence was Maria's doing, and I conducted myself with all the honor left to me. I was instructed in the Law- at least as far as preventing human knowledge of our world- and I followed it to the letter. It was often my job to obtain humans for the newborns to feed on, and I never once left evidence behind that would have led their peers to discover us. I was careful to distribute my raids across wide geographical areas, and whenever possible, I took fugitives or other isolated humans. I conducted every mission with discretion, and held myself responsible for the adherence of those in my command to the Law as I understood it. And the minute I learned the truth about my position, I left without a backward glance. I could have taken that new freedom for my own, but I chose to come here instead. I knew it was a risk- that I might be held accountable for the role Maria had forced on me- but I hoped my intentions would be considered."

"And of course they will be considered," Aro said generously, finally coming to my rescue. "As will the timely information you have so thoughtfully brought us. But for now, let us address your other request."

"What request?" Caius asked. It had taken a surprisingly small effort to extinguish his anger; that was reassuring.

"I'm interested in enlisting," I answered quickly, willing the confidence back into my voice. "I know I have a lot to learn about our world, but I can't think of a better way to learn it than to serve our civilization as a member of the Volturi Guard."

"I see," Aro said neutrally. "And what are your qualifications?"

I drew a deep breath. "I've never lost a fight in seventy-eight years- on or off the field of battle. I was also a commander for nearly all of those years, second only to my creator. I've led soldiers into battle nearly a hundred times, under various circumstances, as well as countless smaller missions. I've managed newborns, planned and executed all sorts of training and discipline, and helped develop my army into the most proficient force the Wars have ever seen."

Caius snorted. "What makes you think you would be in _command_ of anything here, should we grant your request?"

"I am content to serve in any capacity assigned to me."

"Your enthusiasm is most admirable," Aro said, choosing his words with care. "But you are so new to this world, in a way; do you not think it premature to commit yourself to this new purpose so quickly? The Confederate States of America, Maria of Mexico... forgive me, young Jasper, but you seem to have a bad habit of giving your loyalty to the wrong people."

"Not this time," I said firmly. "If I tend to give my loyalty a little too fully, it's because I'm a man who requires a purpose. Now that I've learned the truth about our world and have the chance to do something useful in it, I've found that purpose. I've come halfway around the world to fulfill it."

My answer pleased him greatly; Caius was unmoved. His disdain for me was obvious. I looked him in the eye, while trying to appear deferent at the same time. I remembered hating these kinds of games in my human life as well: buttering up the politicians and the pot-bellied generals who had long since forgotten what it was like to be a soldier, but who were convinced they knew _everything_ about it. If I could get through this charade of an interview, I would hopefully never have to be in this room again; I'd be spending my time with the people who actually got things _done_. I returned Caius' stare, filling him with as rich a peace as I could conjure. "I am willing to prove myself in whatever ways are necessary. I don't know your chain of command or your customs... would a trial period of some kind be possible?"

"At least we are agreed on the matter of your ignorance," Caius bit off. "And as to our customs, perhaps it would have behooved you to discover before embarrassing yourself that positions on the Volturi Guard are not _requested_. They are _bestowed_."

I was saved from making a particularly undeferential response by Aro's laughter. "Do you see now, brother, why I guessed your attendance would be worthwhile?"

"Certainly," Caius grumbled, sharing a glance with Marcus, who finally raised his eyebrows a full inch in genuine amusement. And while Caius wasn't quite settling into the calm I had intended, he was obviously enjoying himself. If I was reading him right, he was practically grinning under all that vitriol. Maybe this was as calm as he _got_.

"Well, my brothers and I will need to council together to determine your fate," Aro pronounced, feigning an aristocratic disinterest. If anything, his focus on me was intensifying. "Before you leave us, are there any other... talents or skills to strengthen your application?"

I nodded, ready to play my trump card. "I am an empath."

But Caius' relative good humor vanished instantly. He turned his head slowly to stare at Aro in consternation. Marcus' change of heart was even more worrying; he was growing suspicious. "My gift would, of course, be at your disposal," I hastened to say.

"Offensive or defensive?" Marcus asked, his youthful voice filling the room with its music. He really _wasn't_ any older than me. But he was also ancient; I could almost imagine his brittle stone visage cracking as he spoke once per century, little birds fleeing their nests in his dusty hair.

"What my dear brother means," Aro offered, "is to ask whether you sense emotions or influence them. Or perhaps both?"

"Both."

"Ah, how interesting!" he exclaimed, though he did not seem at all impressed by this. I was disappointed; I had hoped that revealing my gift here at the end would leave a stronger final impression. "Well, you had better give us a demonstration, young Jasper; a test, as you might say. Can you do... oh, let me see... fear?"

I stepped forward, unsure how hard I should hit them. Aro seemed to sense my hesitation. "Now come, don't be shy!" he urged. "Give it all you can. This may be your only chance to impress Caius, after all!" He chuckled to himself, seemingly delighted at his joke. He held his breath; even Marcus leaned forward slightly.

I nodded in agreement, closing my eyes. The closest thing in the room to fear was Marcus' suspicion and my own uncertainty; I took the negativity inside myself and darkened the tone as I spun it back outward, opening my eyes to focus again on my targets. I gritted my teeth in silent effort, stoking the fire of their fear until it came back around to my own heart. It grew more quickly after that. I inhaled their growing dread and breathed it out tenfold, straining until they began to squirm inside their robes. The female standing behind Aro's throne- I had completely forgotten about her- literally shrank, hiding herself behind it. Then I turned fully on Caius, fueling my effort with his own anger, and with my own. If this was my only chance and I had already lost it because of these petty _games_ , he would at least know what he was missing. He finally gasped, flinching and looking away momentarily. _Good_. I stabbed him through the heart once more with everything I had, and then turned my attention back to Aro and Marcus for another five seconds before draining the fear away. I pulled it down as quickly as I could. It felt surprisingly good to stretch my gift like this; except for those initial bursts every time I started a battle, I was usually far more subtle than this. It felt like a rarely-used muscle was finally getting a workout, however briefly.

"Remarkable," Aro breathed, once he was able to speak again. But his fascination wasn't aimed at me; he seemed to be savoring the fear itself, trying to hold onto it... though that of course made it disappear all the quicker. Marcus, oddly, seemed to feel better about me after the demonstration. Aro finally stared at me again, burning with curiosity. "Most remarkable."

"Yes... well," Caius stammered, his eyes wide. He laid his hand on the arm of Aro's throne, and Aro brushed his fingers against it briefly... odd. Maybe they were the mated pair, then... though that still didn't explain Marcus or the girl. "A nice trick," Caius went on, gaining disdainful control over his voice once again. "I suppose it could have its uses."

"It's come in handy once or twice," I said, finally daring half a smile. There; this was exactly the tone I wanted to end things on. What was the protocol here, though? Should I wait to be dismissed?

Aro rose from his throne. "Thank you for a most informative meeting, young Jasper. My brothers and I must council in private now. Felix?"

The enormous vampire from before materialized behind me. If it wasn't for his scent and his curiosity, I wouldn't have even known he was there. He was also feeling an eager hostility toward me, which I decided was better not to reward with a reaction. Aro glanced between us, looking happier than ever. "Felix, would you and Gustav be so kind as to keep our guest company out in the third hall for a while... we'll call for you before too long, I think. Renata, you may join them."

The timid girl finally emerged from her hiding place, quite unwilling to walk past her kings, or emperors, or whatever they were. So long as they weren't the military commanders, I couldn't care less. I nodded in uneasy gratitude as Aro fully descended the dais this time, grasping my hand in farewell. The last sound I heard as I was led out of the chamber was his ringing laughter.


	10. Welcome to the Chessboard

**Aro POV**

_It is lonely at the top_ , the humans say. They enjoy constructing these little phrases with which to comfort themselves, when in their frantic quest for power they pause for breath long enough to do so. For what can they know of true power? Their mastery is fruitless; their little dominions are hardly eternal, and they themselves are even less so. But it seems to console their decaying minds, these little promises that their power, once achieved, has turned out to be only one rung in the ladder to their immortality.

I have held such minds in my hand. I have watched the sum of their machinations flash by in an instant, leaving nothing of value behind but a moment's worth of warm blood. Those of us who know true power- who have held a man's mind in one hand and a civilization in the other, and have watched both turn to dust- know the unfortunate truth.

It is _dull_ at the top.

I did not notice it at first. I was a vigorous youth of an immortal, bursting with new questions and eager to try my new tools on the virgin marble of the world before me. Blood had its siren call, to be sure, but its song had always been flat...mere notes on a page, while the real music called through the air. It was _knowledge_ I gorged myself on. And there was reason for haste; Greece began to fail not long after I achieved my divinity. _Perhaps I have stolen the immortality of the gods_ , I thought at the time. It was a weighty calling, gathering what wisdom I could before it crumbled away forever.

The humans have been kind to me over the years on this count, building up and tearing down their little empires with such reliability. I crowned myself with that destiny again and again, sweeping in to save the jewels of learning from being consumed in the fires of progress. Sometimes I plucked the choicest minds from the closing fist of their oppressors; sometimes I raided libraries as they went up in flames. I had thought I would never tire of the game.

But even the greatest mysteries wear thin when one has wrung them of their novelty. First it was the pursuit of knowledge that lost its luster; then it was the rhythm of the centuries itself. It had seemed so vast and _inexorable_ a tide once upon a time... now it was but the lapping of surf at my toes. I turned my study inwards, contemplating my own greatness and the magnificence of the species I sought to rule. I plumbed the depths of every type of worship to be had: the jaw-breaking obeisance of my enemies, turned coward and traitor to prolong their own wretched immortality. Rivers of venom flowing through my fingers, from those enemies whose pride was more glorious. Rank upon rank of faceless, brainless servants, so blinded by my brilliance that they began to forget that they were each gods and goddesses in their own right. The adoring eyes of my queen... strained, perhaps, and dilated with the most exquisite drugs this world had to offer, but only so she might see me more clearly.

But the rule was achieved. My proudest enemies faded into legend; the poorer ones grew content with their scraps. My servants bowed beneath their hoods, forgetting their own deity forever. The smile of Sulpicia grew blinding in its bright falseness. Her eyes, still fixed on me in stale wonder, grew cloudy with absence. Even my own illuminated flesh tired of its eternal essence: my fingers, once curled on my throne in eagerness and hunger for new minds, now lay there limp and empty, petrified not with age but with disuse. For what is there that is new under the sun?

And so I entered the most surprising arena of godhood I had yet seen: _humility_. How grateful I became, for any new thought! How like a child, to laugh and clap at the unexpected joy of discovery... all the more precious for its new rarity. Some would name it insanity- for a limitless mind to become so bloated, to so fully consume itself, as to create a new primitive joy from its fullness-turned-nothingness. For a god to have grown so great that he has found himself small, pitifully and dutifully waiting in his crumbling tower for the world to delight him once again.

But is that not the very essence of godhood, to rule a world that has learned to spin in obedience without constant attendance? To sit enthroned, immobile and ready to sample the pleasures of a world stumbling to run and present them on bended knee?

I name it genius.

.

.

.

I kissed the marble arch of Sulpicia's shoulder, ascending to her throat. I traced the invisible bite I had made so very long ago, bringing her into this life with me. She tipped her head back in submission, remembering that moment as well. There was rarely a need for words between us, these last centuries; our minds sang in perfect harmony when we touched.

I mourned, with every kiss, our loss. That our song was no longer one of unison as it had once been... but I could also not deny the cold beauty of the harmony itself. Her worship was the exact inverse of my own. She would stare up at me forever, frozen in wonder at her maker; I would gaze down at her forever, frozen in wonder at the beauty of my Galatea.

"Master."

Alec's voice, intruding on our symphony, held a mild note of promise. Whatever matter had driven him to cross beyond the fountain- an act normally forbidden to any Guards not assigned to protect the most precious treasures in Volterra- was of some import. Perhaps a newspaper article, evidence of some infraction worthy of Caius' eager attention? Perhaps a morsel of information from one of my eyes and ears, those servants who wore no cloaks but roamed the earth at my whim, always looking for dangers and novelties. Perhaps even a humble pilgrim... but those were rare now. Regardless, any diversion was a welcome gift.

Alec knew his place better than most; hence why he was usually sent as courier. Having spoken once, he would wait in Sulpicia's antechamber in silence for however many hours it took his lord to condescend to answer him. But the call of curiosity is a summons that not even the loftiest king can refuse.

"Must you go?" Sulpicia complained, covering herself and reaching after me as I left our bed. I dressed and touched her face one last time, savoring the sound of her voice as it died away. It echoed so seldom in our walls these day; it had all been said. Even our symphonies of passion were well-rehearsed. The longing in her eyes just now was far more enticing.

"Duty calls, dearest one."

_You do not know what it is like, watching you leave._

Ah, but I did know; that was the trouble, was it not? And while I pitied the smallness of my mate's world, at least I had the elixir with which to soothe it.

"I will think of you every moment," I promised, trailing my finger along her lips in farewell. "Well, Alec," I called out, joining him. "What is on the agenda today?" I nodded to Corin, who was also waiting for instruction, and waved her back in to put her mistress' heart at ease.

Alec offered his hand, but I waved it away generously. A day with _any_ agenda was a bright one, cause for celebration with a more conventional approach to the puzzle at hand. Receiving information in piecemeal verbal form, complete with miscommunication and holes, was one of the smaller pleasures left to me. And there was certainly nothing in Alec's mind worth looking at.

"We have a visitor," he said as we walked the halls.

"Old or new?"

"New, master. His name is Jasper. American. He is from..." his brow wrinkled with his own curiosity. "Texas."

"Ah! How interesting. Go on."

"Demetri and Felix found him wandering our streets, searching for us. All we know is that he has brought information that he thinks may be useful... and that he wishes to 'join up'." He smirked at the stones ahead.

I could not resist after that. I held out my hand and Alec gave me the rest, instantaneously painting a fuller picture of our visitor. Jasper cut a pathetic image, in Alec's memory at least, but I would certainly grant his request for an audience. His scars, if nothing else, promised an interesting tale that I doubted had very much to do with _Texas_... perhaps something further south. We had never before received a supplicant from the Wars, at least never one who had come of his own free will; if my theory was correct the tale should prove _very_ interesting. If not, American visitors were rare enough as to still be a treat- especially in wartime. I was curious how he had travelled. I sent Alec in search of my brothers, and also made arrangements for Renata to attend us. Using her generally proved needless, but then scarred dogs did have a tendency to bite.

.

.

.

"I'm busy," Caius greeted me. He was wearing his ceremonial frown, sweeping into the audience chamber after Marcus. Renata was already at my back. Ah, how I envied Caius! His jurisdictions were unsuitably small, compared to my own, but they had the distinct advantage of genuinely requiring his attention.

"I think you will forgive my interruption, brother, when you meet our visitor."

"Why?"

I smiled, arranging my robes. Demetri exited and retrieved our guest.

"Jasper, from America," he announced with his customary bow. Demetri's loyalty was picturesque, as always. If we had indeed wanted the riffraff of the vampire world to "join up", as this ragged vampire had so brazenly put it- which we most certainly did not- I would happily put Demetri on the cover of our pamphlet. That Chelsea was more than instrumental in his star performance was a shame, but a boon nonetheless. The administration of a species did require a multitude of tools, if not weapons.

And here was our guest! He was taller than Alec had pictured him, though the scars were just as grotesque. He looked as though a dog had chewed on him for a while and spit him back out. I wondered how many other scars were hidden beneath his absurdity of a costume, and how he had gotten each of them.

Jasper sketched a poor imitation of Demetri's bow, though there was something vaguely familiar about his style. I welcomed him forward to the dais and took his hand. Ah! I had gotten it right; his story did indeed center around the Southern Wars. A short life, though he felt it long, and not particularly interesting in military terms; Caius would be disappointed with that, though I was grateful for the update. As usual, the encampments in Central America were more or less frozen in place; real progress was rare anymore, especially since Caius made it his business to keep everyone on equal footing. Maria continued to have a distinct advantage over her fellow warmongers- possession of the U.S./Mexican border- but it appeared she was as faithful as ever in failing to achieve her little objectives. Hers was a mind I had always wanted to explore. Perhaps someday, though for now Jasper's memories were a happy substitute. Their history together was quite the uncomfortable tale... and Jasper's stubborn loyalty to his creator, while finally ruined by her schemes, was most inspiring. His intelligence, which shone best in his talent for strategic thinking and creative organization, was no more than mediocre... though perhaps that was partially due to the poverty of Maria's company. In any case, excessive intelligence was not an attractive quality in a prospective Guard.

But his _gift!_ Young Jasper had brought something far more valuable than the useless information he thought was so expensive as to earn him a cloak; he was an empath. Not the most unique gift, but rare enough as to brighten my day. Jasper seemed to take the emotions of others fully _into_ himself, making them his own in reality. Corin did something of that nature, in her own dull way. And like Corin, he had the ability to influence others.

But it was the _versatility_ of his gift which set my imagination alight. Jasper could command _any_ emotion. And while there was always a small delay, and a host of other factors which could limit his effectiveness, his influence was relatively quick to take hold. Not lasting, sadly, though the druglike effects of Corin's gift also seemed to be blissfully absent. And even more importantly, he could be most subtle when he chose, keeping his targets unaware of his intervention. Maria had instituted any number of rules regarding the use of his influence on her, and he had learned how to circumvent nearly all of them without her apparent knowledge. The louder she had raged at him, the more he had developed his ability for a more delicate touch.

His enemies were not so lucky. While he had never boasted openly of his gift himself, it was almost certain that young Jasper was in fact the infamous "Immortal Terror", that villain of the Wars who had grown into a colorful legend in recent decades. Such a prize, though he himself seemed unaware of his inflated reputation. He was known for striking fear into the hearts of his enemies in battle, reducing them instantly to quivering lambs waiting for the slaughter. I saw now that those claims had been exaggerated; Jasper's gift was in fact at its weakest in the crowded confusion of battle. And he was certainly no villain; he hadn't the stomach for most of the violent acts and emotions he had been subjected to since his change, and if anything he was a philosopher, not a warrior. Still, his need for duty was admirable... and his blind trust in our government was touching. It soothed my pride to have such a gifted vampire come and offer himself so freely. If all went according to my hope, Chelsea would hardly be necessary in his installment. I would very much prefer to mould this young vampire's mind with my own hands, as I used to do of old. Yes... that thought soothed my pride immensely.

I would certainly grant his desire. Not for action against his creator; I had the Wars precisely where I wanted them. He would need to learn contentment on that count. But he would make an interesting addition to our company, and an even more interesting subject for experimentation. How delightful it would be, to test and tease out the subtleties of his gift! I was eager to try him on poor Marcus... though that would have to wait until I was sure of his discretion. Meanwhile, his assimilation in general would be a diverting project. He was a slave to his thirst; that would need to dealt with. His pride, as well, was an obstacle that would have to be removed. We would see how he fared with a lighter cloak, after being accustomed to command for so long. His fellow Guards would certainly do their part to make him feel at home within his new rank. I was especially looking forward to Santiago's reaction; it was from his mind, after all, that I had first learned of the Terror. And Caius might need to be convinced... though that challenge would also be part of the fun. It should not be too difficult; despite his various projects, he was as tragically bored as I was.

I released Jasper's hand, feeling the overly-warm protection of Renata's shield envelop me once again. I turned to take my seat, glancing toward Caius with a subtle nod and a promising smile: the signal that our visitor's mind had confirmed that this meeting would be of particular interest. That we would be playing our usual roles. I had long since given up on sending Marcus these little cues; it made little difference in his participation. I could not _wait_ to determine the differences and similarities between Jasper's gift and Corin's. But I supposed I would have to let Caius have his fun first; patience was a virtue, after all, even among those for whom virtue was not a strict necessity.

Jasper was eager to get to the point, but that would not do. Caius must be gradually introduced to the idea of accepting a second veteran of the Southern Wars, especially one of such high profile. I steered our guest instead to the interesting tale of his travels. As I had hoped, Caius cheered right up, wanting to know more about the U.S. Navy's firepower and the operation of the airplane Jasper had commandeered. I asked the first few questions to pique his interest, guiding Jasper's account to its more entertaining points, and then he took over. Jasper himself proved a poor source of technical information, though his barest observations were enough to stimulate weeks of new learning, from the U.S. Civil War to the use of torpedoes in this current conflict. Even if his tenure proved brief and ended in fire, that in itself was a gift beyond measure. I leaned back happily in my throne, asking my questions and chiding myself for my ennui earlier. This war might not be a novelty in its structure- humanity could only be happy if it tore itself apart in hatred every few generations- but in form, it really was fascinating. I would have to pay more attention when Caius went on his tirades about the dangers the humans of this era presented on our kind. It would not do to become _too_ disconnected from the canvas from which our world had sprung.

And now it was time for young Jasper's confession; I worried how Caius would react... and I was even more curious if Jasper would lie about his origins.

But he did not. His faith in his own value was terribly arrogant, but I admired his honesty. I decided it was better not to let Caius know about Jasper's little assassination plots- the earlier one against Nettie and Lucy, and his more recent resolve to kill Maria herself- but extreme circumstances notwithstanding, Jasper was a man who _needed_ to give his full loyalty away. How fortunate that he himself realized this! I agreed with his worried assessment: that if he did not have a cause to devote himself to, he would live out his immortality in agitated boredom and misery. He needed, simply, to work. No, I supposed his damning confession here was not made out of stupidity or mere arrogance after all; he simply had already given us his trust before arriving, because he so badly needed that loyalty to go somewhere. How marvelous! I would test his mind once again after our little meeting, but I anticipated no problems. Once Jasper gave his allegiance, it was nearly impossible for him to reconsider it. I was quite annoyed with the timing of Peter's heroic rescue; he had interrupted the greatest test of all. _Would_ Jasper have been able to kill his darling creator that evening, had escape not offered him a way out? Even I, who now knew him better than he knew himself, was unsure of that.

"Let me get this straight," Caius scoffed, interrupting my reverie, "You came crawling halfway around the globe to ask us to drop everything and mobilize the Guard to kill your creator for you?"

Jasper flinched ever so slightly; if I had read his mind correctly, he was quite offended that his honor was in question. "This isn't about personal revenge," he protested. "I came to offer information and my help so that your Guard can finally achieve an objective they've been working towards. So that the Southern Wars can finally be ended."

"And what _help_ do you think you can offer us?" Caius challenged. "If it took you eighty years to realize that freedom had been a stone's throw away the entire time, then you're not particularly bright, are you? And what makes you so confident of our pardon in the first place? Ignorance is no excuse for nearly a century of breaking the Law!"

 _Bravo, brother_ , I thought with an internal smile. He was wasting no time in humbling our guest; that boded well for a positive vote. I realized, with another hidden smile, that in the future I might be able to read Caius' intent by touching Jasper's hand alone. That was going to be so _convenient!_ But for now, it was time for me to play my own role: the Good Cop to Caius' Bad. I motioned kindly for Jasper to answer the accusation. I was curious to see what eloquence he would muster on the spot in his defense; that was another of his talents, but he was quite rusty.

"I do not deny that I participated in an illegal war," he began, standing tall and looking Caius in the eye. I wondered if he was influencing him... how delightful! "But I never committed any illegal acts of my own. My presence was Maria's doing, and I conducted myself with all the honor left to me. I was instructed in the Law- at least as far as preventing human knowledge of our world- and I followed it to the letter. It was often my job to obtain humans for the newborns to feed on, and I never once left evidence behind that would have led their peers to discover us. I was careful to distribute my raids across wide geographical areas, and whenever possible, I took fugitives or other isolated humans. I conducted every mission with discretion, and held myself responsible for the adherence of those in my command to the Law as I understood it. And the minute I learned the truth about my position, I left without a backward glance. I could have taken that new freedom for my own, but I chose to come here instead. I knew it was a risk- that I might be held accountable for the role Maria had forced on me- but I hoped my intentions would be considered."

I promised him they would be. This led to the final matter at hand: Jasper's desire to "enlist", as he called it. And now it was time for my own little test... though I was quite confident of the outcome. "Your enthusiasm is most admirable," I said in gentle condescension. "But you are so new to this world, in a way; do you not think it premature to commit yourself to this new purpose so quickly? The Confederate States of America, Maria of Mexico... forgive me, young Jasper, but you seem to have a bad habit of giving your loyalty to the wrong people."

"Not this time," he said fervently. "If I tend to give my loyalty a little too fully, it's because I'm a man who requires a purpose. Now that I've learned the truth about our world and have the chance to do something useful in it, I've found that purpose. I've come halfway around the world to fulfill it."

Ah, what naive loyalty! Such a treasure. Jasper still knew nothing of substance about us, but his faith in the institution already seemed quite unshakeable. I was most eager to see whether Marcus would agree. Caius continued where I had left off, practically promising Jasper that if we did in fact accept his application, his position would be quite humble, considering his so-called "experience".

"I am willing to prove myself in whatever ways are necessary," Jasper replied. I don't know your chain of command or your customs... would a trial period of some kind be possible?"

"At least we are agreed on the matter of your ignorance," Caius snapped back. "And as to our customs, perhaps it would have behooved you to discover before embarrassing yourself that positions on the Volturi Guard are not _requested_. They are _bestowed_."

I laughed, delighted to see Caius so enjoying himself. "Do you see now, brother, why I guessed your attendance would be worthwhile?"

"Certainly," Caius grumbled back. He and Marcus shared an incredulous glance; it was time.

"Well," I said lightly, "my brothers and I will need to council together to determine your fate. Before you leave us, are there any other... talents or skills to strengthen your application?"

Jasper nodded. "I am an empath."

Marcus tensed beside me. Caius was not so subtle; he turned and stared at me in disapproval, as if to say _Why am I not surprised?_

"My gift would, of course, be at your disposal," Jasper added hastily.

"Offensive or defensive?" Marcus asked. I explained his question further.

"Both."

"Ah, how interesting!" I exclaimed. "Well, you had better give us a demonstration, young Jasper; a test, as you might say. Can you do... oh, let me see... fear?"

Jasper stepped forward, finally looking less sure of himself; perhaps he did not wish to offend. But for Marcus' suspicion to be allayed, he must be given the impression that Jasper's power was abrupt and obvious to its target, like Corin's. And for Caius to be impressed, the bolder the better. I encouraged Jasper to give his greatest effort.

He closed his eyes. I held my breath in my eagerness; what would it feel like? It took four seconds at least, but I soon felt a tension coiling in my stomach. It crept higher, squeezing my throat and making my limbs ache with a curious desire to scramble away. I felt Renata's shield tremble and tighten around me, but its safety was little comfort. I felt so wonderfully _afraid!_ Jasper himself seemed to grow taller, more menacing. Even though he was immobile he seemed about to attack. I gripped the arms of my throne in readiness to spring away. Even Caius was writhing in his seat, no doubt trying very hard not to react. But he finally gasped and shied away from his apparent enemy- ah, Jasper was solely focused on him now. I breathed in small relief, but Jasper's blazing eyes snapped back to me and I shuddered in genuine terror. What if he _should_ attack, and Renata's own fear should fail me?! But in the next moment I was suddenly released, flooded with warmth as the chill of fear was swept away. Ah, it had all felt so very _real! Exactly_ what I had hoped for! I very nearly shuddered again in delight, trying to savor the novelty of my fear as it evaporated all too quickly. Jasper seemed almost to shrink.

"Remarkable," I sighed. "Most remarkable."

"Yes... well." Caius' pride was not too damaged, I hoped. As if in answer, he moved his hand to my chair and I eagerly took his thoughts. Ah! He was feeling most disposed toward our supplicant, as I had hoped. But no- there was only one way to truly know what he was _feeling_ behind those grudging thoughts and plans- most of which involved our guest in a light gray cloak, writhing on the floor and screaming with Jane nearby- and I had it right in front of me. "I suppose it could have its uses," Caius continued drily. I hoped, for his sake, that Jasper was not _too_ assured of his approval. His pride was already a concern.

"It's come in handy once or twice," Jasper drawled, finally indulging in a self-satisfied smile. Yes... that would most certainly have to be dealt with.

I rose to my feet. Curiously, though the fear had fully dissipated, my legs still ached with an inexplicable desire to flee. "Thank you for a most informative meeting, young Jasper. My brothers and I must council in private now. Felix?"

Felix appeared a little too quickly; he had been listening at the door again. That would also need to be addressed. I smiled up at the faithful brute, pleased to see that his eavesdropping had at least accelerated one aspect of my experiment; he scowled down at Jasper's neck as if he would like to add a scar of his own. We would indeed have a diverting next few weeks as Jasper got settled in. "Felix, would you and Gustav be so kind as to keep our guest company out in the third hall for a while... we'll call for you before too long, I think. Renata, you may join them."

Poor Renata. She could not take her wide eyes off of the monster who had frightened her. She slowed to a stop at my side as if trudging through mud and finally becoming stuck; her fingers found mine.

_He cannot be trusted, Master!_ _When he... when he frightened me, I lost my hold on Caius and Marcus completely._ _For just a moment I felt sure that he could break through my defense._ _Please, send him away!_ _Or at the very least, keep me by your side until he is disposed of..._

I ignored her for the moment; hers were not the thoughts I wanted just now. Jasper tensed but inclined his head in respect as I took his hand again. I hungrily flew through his memories of our little talk. I was most curious to see whether the fear had indeed dissipated so abruptly, or whether he had... ah! So he _had_ pulled it down himself, as I had hoped. That boded well for some of the more delicate experiments I had in mind.

I was disappointed, however, to learn that I could not always identify the emotions he was processing. Perhaps it was his decades of experience, or the instinctual nature of his gift, but at several points he had not bothered to put into words what he was feeling from us; I supposed he simply did not need to. My gift had its limits; I could not fully interpret the emotions of the vampire minds I held in my hand. Humans were much easier, having so many observable manifestations of their moods. And even with vampires, I could often make guesses, based on the person in question and my vast experience, but Jasper lived and breathed emotion with such primitive instinct that his processing of it was largely subconscious. His gift would be far more useful to me if I could have a dictation running through his mind at all times, describing his sensations in word form. Perhaps later on, once his loyalty was truly secure, I could persuade him to do so for my sake.

I was still quite hopeful, despite Jasper's personal distaste with our interview, that Chelsea would only need to apply the lightest of touches. It was so refreshing to hear the thoughts of a free mind, and Jasper's talent for innovation would be of great value; I would keep it as intact as I could. And his rude appraisals were most entertaining. When I heard his final impressions I could not help but laugh aloud.

"What?" Caius grumbled. I smiled and shook my head, giving Renata a little push to follow Felix and Jasper out the door. Renata was such a silly little thing; her shield was not nearly so fragile as she feared. Of course she had lost her grip on my brothers in her fear; they were not her concern. Their inclusion in her protective embrace was only a courtesy. Still... I had not seen her falter like that in a long time. Jasper had already been so kind as to reveal this weakness in her... perhaps he could be instrumental in repairing it.

I waited until the footsteps of the Guards had retreated and resumed my seat.

"What?" Caius asked again impatiently.

"Jasper's impressions of us were most entertaining," I replied happily. Thanks to Jasper's mind, I was now quite confident of Caius' vote. No doubt we would still play out our usual Socratic debate, but I would never begrudge him that pleasure. Jasper's impressions of Marcus had been surprisingly neutral; my poor brother must be more adept at controlling himself when at his work than I thought. I was touched.

"He is under the impression that we are eccentric civilian kings," I told my brothers lightly, deciding to omit the more insulting imagery. Jasper's little smile at the end had been a mistake; he was fortunate Caius had been already been so impressed before that point. "He is hoping he will not need to deal with us very much."

"He will be disappointed," Marcus said under his breath, "especially in regards to Caius."

"You're no barrel of laughs yourself," Caius shot back.

"Well, brothers," I sighed heavily, "we have a difficult decision to make."

"Two," Caius corrected. "And the first is not a difficult one."

"Oh?"

"We must decide, should we choose not to accept him, or should he prove unfit to serve, whether he will leave Volterra alive."

"I have no quarrel with him in that case," Marcus sighed, looking away. "He seems like a man who would be responsible with his immortality, and discreet."

Caius frowned, but showed no surprise; Marcus had always tended to err on the side of mercy, but he had become a hopeless romantic ever since love had touched and ruined his heart. "My vote is a resounding no," Caius said, as though it was necessary. He speared me with a threatening gaze; I was quite happy to oblige.

"It seems I must cast the deciding vote," I recited. Was that not the point of operating as a triumvirate? "I fear I must also vote against young Jasper's freedom. Having touched his mind, I do not believe he himself constitutes a threat... and I concur with Marcus' faith in his own discretion. But we have our reputation to consider; a Southern fugitive wandering the earth is one thing, but one who has come and gone from Volterra without punishment is another. Especially such a notorious veteran."

"My thoughts exactly," Caius put in. "He surrendered his freedom- one way or another- when he decided to come here."

I nodded in gracious deference. "Now that that's settled, we must decide whether he shall join the Guard. His actual capacity and the method of his training are secondary matters; let us first decide his fate." I decided not to take their thoughts just yet; that would also please Caius.

"I don't like him," Caius began pleasantly.

"Of course you don't," I smiled back. "But you can't tell me you aren't itching to use that fear in your interrogations."

"It would be useful. But his arrogance..."

"-is largely a matter of ignorance," I insisted. "He believes that we Three are wholly removed from the work of our 'military'- useless bureaucrats with whom he need not concern himself once he receives his commission. He does not believe us worthy of his genuine respect, which he has been aching to give someone for eighty years. Once he sees how things truly sit, I believe his commitment will be absolute, personally and professionally. But what is your assessment, Marcus?"

Marcus peered at me, sadness in his young face. "I don't trust him." I knew that look; what he meant was that he did not trust _me_.

I sighed, expecting as much. "Your prejudice toward empaths is most unbecoming, brother. I can assure you, his gift is quite different from Corin's in operation. He rarely exerts passive influence, and only then when his own emotions are at their most extreme. No, I want your assessment of his preliminary bonds."

Marcus looked away. "Does it matter? You will reforge them soon enough."

I reached over and took his thoughts, impatient with his belligerence. It did not suit his position. "There, you see? We are in agreement. Jasper's loyalty is already given to our institution, and his respect will soon follow. Chelsea will do her part- though I anticipate she will not be needed much- I will do mine, and Caius will do his."

"I do not deny I'm looking forward to that part," Caius added with another twist of a smile.

"And really, Caius, you _are_ lucky. Surely you are as pleased as I am- it's not every day you receive such an willing, experienced soldier into your ranks."

"All the more for him to unlearn."

"All the more for you to teach him," I returned.

"He will expect action," Caius warned, "on his vendetta."

"He will learn patience. And in time, contentment."

Caius tapped his fingers on his throne in quick succession; his excuses were already wearing thin. This was going splendidly. "He's ugly."

I laughed. "A hooded cloak covers a multitude of sins."

"We already have Santiago- who, I might mention, was created by Maria's nemesis. They aren't going to get along."

"Yes, that is something of a problem," I admitted, deciding not to elaborate how _great_ a problem. "We shall see how they get on. If it becomes a persistent difficulty, we will intervene. In the meantime, I think Santiago's example will be to our advantage."

"I don't want them becoming too friendly, either. Comradery is a virtue, but commiseration is a bond."

"Has anyone ever told, you, Caius, that you are impossible to please?"

He grinned, leaning back in satisfaction. "Athena might have mentioned it once or twice this week, yes."

Marcus gathered his robes and rose stiffly. "Where are you going, brother?" I asked in exasperation.

"You know my vote."

"And you would condemn such a promising young man to execution with that vote?" I challenged. "One who has been so wronged and now has a new chance at a meaningful life?"

"If you recall, I voted against such a conclusion."

"But it will be the result, if you get your way."

"Which I will not." He turned and left us, excusing himself from the game.

"We are agreed, then?" Caius asked.

"Of course. Though I caution against feeding Jasper's pride further; it will be easier to dismantle. Let us tell him that we agree to his proposition of a 'trial period' only, for now. No cloak yet."

Caius nodded, lost in thought. In gratitude for his performance, I left him to do so in private. "How much was he influencing us, though?" he finally asked. "Is it possible that our agreement is his doing?"

I shook my head. "I was surprised to see how little he tried, considering his ignorance of my gift thus far. I wondered if he would lie about his origins altogether, and whether he would work to ensure our agreement. But he has great faith in his own worth, and in our justice."

"If _justice_ was the only concern here, his ashes would already be cooling."

"No, I did not mean that sort of justice." How to phrase this? Caius' pride in his mindless administration of justice was most sensitive; I did not want to push him too far. "In the short weeks of his freedom, Jasper has become a firm believer in our honorable government of the vampire world. He has latched onto us as a symbol. You see, Caius, young Jasper shares a great virtue with you: he must live with purpose. As pitiful as his role in the Southern Wars was, it gave him a great deal of meaning. When the reality was revealed and he deserted, it left a vacuum in his heart... which led him here. In order for that purpose to inspire the new freedom of his mind and heal his hurts, we have by necessity grown in his regard to fill that vacuum. That is why his initial loyalty is so eager and stubborn; he believes that we must meet his expectations, and so we do. He simply assumes that we need more help- _his_ help, naturally- to correct an injustice which has been inflicting the society entrusted to our care."

"'Entrusted'?" Caius snorted.

I shrugged, smiling and closing my eyes against the thin line of sunlight as its warmth finally found me. I was almost sorry that we would be unable to meet some of Jasper's more noble expectations... almost. Democracy was such a cruelty. "Our first American, Caius... this will be interesting."

Caius eyed me with suspicion. "No doubt you have some creative plans of your own for _my_ new Guard."

"No doubt. _Felix!"_ I called. "Felix alone, please." Caius looked at me in question. "He was eavesdropping."

"Again? Shall we call for Jane?"

"No, I have another punishment in mind... I might as well begin one of my 'creative plans', as you call them."

Felix appeared, approaching us with an anxiety that was always so amusing, when paired with his stature. I smiled, holding out my hand to receive the evidence. It seemed that Felix was not the only one who had been skulking by our door... how very disappointing. Well, Felix would be the unlucky representative of the trio in question. Why could not _all_ my Guards be as humbly obedient as Demetri? Chelsea was known for her presumption- with good reason, at least, but Alec had no such excuse.

"Felix, Felix," I sighed, glancing over to Caius mournfully. "Have you so little faith in our justice?"

Felix's large brow crumpled in confusion.

"You have served us for many years, my old friend. You know that it is a rare honor for a giftless vampire to have such a tenure. And it is a further honor that you have been entrusted with the administration and training of so many of your younger comrades- it might even be said that you are second in command to Caius himself, when it comes to matters of development and discipline of our strongest Guards. We trust you with so much."

Felix blinked, standing taller. "I am honored indeed, Master."

"Then _why_ ," I sighed, sharing another long-suffering glance with Caius, "is it that it takes so little to rattle your trust in _our_ trust? Along comes a new vampire who seeks a place with us. It is true, this vampire comes with nearly a century of command experience, notoriety for his skill in battle, and a formidable gift... but Felix, do you really think we are so dazzled by this decorated newcomer that we would forget your own devotion? Must you really lurk outside our door like a pitiful ghost, holding your breath and wondering how long it will be until we will replace you? I am hurt, Felix, that you think so little of my regard."

Felix was kneading his hands together now, his shoulders drawn tight as stone with tension. "Master, please, I... that was never my intent. I simply..."

"What?" Caius snapped. "You simply haven't yet developed a set of rudimentary manners, despite your ridiculous age?"

"Yes," Felix blurted back in a panic. I had often wished that vampires could blush; this was one of those times I would have loved to see our hulking Felix go beet red as he stammered his defense. "I meant, no, I merely forgot them for a moment. It is so rare that we admit a new Guard, I was just-"

"Curious?" Caius offered coolly. "I seem to remember a story about curiosity and cats."

Felix lowered his hands and his eyes, standing ramrod straight again. "It will never happen again."

"I should hope not," I said tenderly. "Now, be a dear and fetch Jasper for us... we have some happy news for him. Renata will not be necessary, and nor will Santiago, but perhaps Gustav would like to accompany you... Alec and Chelsea too, since they also seemed _curious_." I finished with a sad smile of accusation, waving my hand in dismissal. Felix dipped a severe bow and escaped. Caius was holding himself in a most curious posture, hunched away from me over the left arm of his throne. His mouth was jammed against his fist in a somewhat arachnid impersonation of the famous Thinker. Once the door closed behind Felix, his laughter finally escaped his fist.

"Was he really worried about all that?" he asked, readjusting his robes and struggling to regain control of himself before the door opened again.

"No," I replied happily. "But he is now."

Caius chuckled once more in admiration before resuming his severe facade. I required much less effort to return my brightest smile to the door. My fingers once again gripped their throne, rejuvenated with anticipation.

_Let the games begin._


	11. Studies

**Another thank you to Camilla10 for her help with Italian.**

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**Jasper POV**

I followed the Guards back out into the hall, mentally running through the interview as I was led deeper into the tunnels. My audience with the three leaders hadn't gone as expected, but then I hadn't known what to expect in the first place. The world was full of surprises lately, so it stood to reason that Volterra would be just as full of them.

I mapped the tunnels in my head as we passed through them, trying to extrapolate which part of the city we were under and how deep down. We weren't retracing the steps we had taken in from the city. We plunged downward almost immediately via a serious of drops and dimly-lit stairwells. The walls were roughly-carved stone again, with torches mounted every few hundred feet. To me that seemed an unnecessary hazard, but then I supposed the Volturi didn't keep around a bunch of reckless newborns.

After a descent of a few hundred feet, Felix and Gustav swung into a long hall that stretched out toward the east... or what felt like east. It seemed like overkill; I hadn't been able to hear the murmured conversation between the leaders since the second stairwell. We halted only a few steps into the eastbound hall. Felix glanced me over again as we waited, still full of contempt but more curious than before. Gustav, a blond, freckled copy of Felix, stood aloof and uninterested.

"I'm trying to figure out the organization here," I said to them. "Other than those three, who's in charge? What kind of ranking system does the Guard use?"

"Had a feeling you were in the Southern Wars," Felix said, adding a sardonic twist of a grin.

"Eighty years," I shot back recklessly, looking away. I didn't smile back. I knew Felix's type; his respect would have to be earned the old-fashioned way, if I was going to be around long enough to have the chance.

That was the extent of our conversation. I shut my mouth and copied their statuesque posture, wondering how long this was going to take. I entertained myself by trying to sort out the mush of scents that was trapped in the stale air of the hallway. It was always tough to determine how many vampires belonged to a crowd of scents, especially since so many of us smelled like more than one thing, but there had to be at least ten different vampires that had passed this way in recent days. I wondered, though, how long it would take vampire scent to dissipate in such an enclosed space.

Despite how roughly the interview had gone, I felt fairly positive about my chances. I wondered how many spots they had available on the Guard... what I might be assigned to. I still knew next to nothing about these people, or how their days were spent.

Before three minutes had passed, Felix was called back, but alone. Once he was gone, I tried Gustav. "So what kinds of duties do you have?"

Nothing.

Friendly bunch. Either they were well-trained or just got a kick out of being difficult. I hoped it was the first one.

"Let's go," Felix called from one of the stairwells above us. When Gustav and I caught back up to him his emotional aura had changed. He glared at me with open hostility now, plus a hint of fear flickering at the edges. But he walked with the same broad swagger, leading me back into the throne room.

The vampire called Marcus was absent this time, as was the girl, Renata. I had thought she was coming down to that other hallway with us before, but she had just disappeared. I turned my attention to Aro and Caius, relieved to find Aro, at least, still in a positive mood. Caius' focus on me was more neutral and calculating; apparently that was as good as I was going to get from him.

"We have good news for you, young Jasper," Aro announced regally. "We are not quite ready to offer you a position with us, but we are pleased with your qualifications and your desire to serve. You may stay with us for now and begin preliminary training, during which time we can get to know you better. A trial period, I believe you called it."

Everything inside me unclenched with relief. "Thank you, sir."

"We will continue to evaluate your aptitude during this time, and you will have a chance to prove to us whether you are capable of fulfilling the requirements of a Volturi Guard."

"I'll do my very best, sir."

"I am sure you will," Caius said, rising from his throne and descending the dais, all in one fluid movement. "I'm sure you also think yourself equal to the challenge. This way."

I followed him out the door, unsure if I should answer that last bit. I decided against it; respectful silence seemed to be the safest bet with Caius. I had questions of my own, but they could wait until I was alone with my commanding officer, or at least a Guard more sociable than Felix or Gustav. Demetri had seemed friendlier; maybe I could find him after I got settled. Caius was taking me back the way we had first come out of the city. Eventually we emerged from the trap door out into the hallway with the electric lighting and the fancy golden doors. I could hear the sounds of the city coming from the far end of the hall. Surely the Guards' quarters weren't this close to the street?

"You'll have to tell us if this first phase of training is too difficult," he said, moving toward the golden doors. "We wouldn't want to waste your time."

I ignored the barbs of contempt he threw over his shoulder at me. Training already? I could get used to this kind of efficiency. I wasn't human, after all; it wasn't like I needed to go freshen up first. I followed him inside, holding myself loose and ready for anything.

But the room was filled with books. It was a _library_ , of all things.

"What languages do you speak?" Caius asked, flipping a switch that ignited a buzzing electric lamp overhead. He began to run his fingers along a shelf of dictionary-sized volumes.

I blinked. "English and Spanish, a few bits of German, Italian, and Fr-"

Caius waved his hand to stop me. "Fluently."

"English and Spanish, then."

He sighed, turning back to the shelves. He made his way around the room counter clockwise, pulling down book after book after _book_ and tossing them all onto the enormous rectangular table that filled the center of the library. When the series of _thuds_ finally ended I found myself staring in dismay at a pile of twenty-two books of various sizes, half of which weren't even titled in a recognizable alphabet.

"You'll start with Italian," Caius said briskly, already on his way out of the room. "You've got seventy-two hours to learn the language in its written form. Start with the dictionary, then the grammar text, then begin the two novels I selected. I'll also see that you get a newspaper." He paused, turning back to frown at me. "You do know how to _read_ , don't you?"

I straightened up. "Of course, sir."

"At that time one of our Guards will join you to practice conversational Italian."

The door clicked shut behind him. I began to pick through the pile of books with slow apprehension, wondering what had happened to my streak of good luck. Why couldn't I just prove myself against their best fighter? Answer an informal examination? Shadow a Guard to learn the ropes? I'd even sit through a lecture on the Law taught by Caius himself. Anything but this.

But I supposed it was a good sign. I remembered every detail of my first day as a vampire: a frightening maelstrom of emotion, feeding, and violence, broken only by Maria's beguiling lies. What could be further from that initiation than studying in a library? If this was the foundation of a Volturi Guard's training- knowledge and humanoid civility- then I couldn't have made a better choice. It confirmed a hope I hadn't even known to voice to myself: that things were run very differently here in Volterra. That despite the inescapable fact of being a monster, it was possible to leave the savagery behind.

I finally managed to separate the books into groups, based on what appeared to be four distinct languages. Two of the larger volumes had _Italiano_ written on their spines, so I figured those had to be the Italian dictionary and grammar text.

For the first time in seventy-eight years, I sat down in a chair. It felt odd; my body kept wanting to catch itself, like I was falling perpetually backwards. _Fitting_ , I thought glumly as I dragged the dictionary closer. I opened to the first page and, sizing up my enemy with a wary eye, charged into battle.

.

.

.

The fight was a tough one. As a human, I had never had much time or patience for book learning. I had preferred numbers, and had taken over the accounts at the ranch soon after dropping out of school. And while I had snatched bits of information from the newspapers in my victims' homes now and then, I hadn't read too many books since my change. When any literature came into our hands- usually via the knapsacks of the humans we rounded up- it was Maria's policy to distribute them among the newborns. The books and magazines were torn up more often than not, but now and then we'd had soldiers who could sit still for hours at a time, engrossed in any reading material they could get their hands on. Peter and Charlotte had been like that. I hadn't had the luxury of sitting around and reading, with my various duties, but truth be told, I had never really enjoyed reading. And I had soaked up Spanish the usual way, learning from the conversations around me.

I knew I had the capacity to take in large amounts of information, but my brain just wasn't wired for this. All the words began to run together, one long line of gibberish. I gave up on the dictionary in the middle of the "c" section and switched to the grammar text, which, mercifully, was written in English. That was a little better, but it still couldn't keep my attention. I was driven half crazy by the ticking clock sitting on one of the shelves and by the buzzing lamp overhead. I was distracted by the sounds of human civilization outside, and the growing thirst they inspired. And now there was someone standing right outside the library door, judging by the new cloud of boredom hovering there. I wondered why I was being guarded, and what that might mean. In any case, the Guard's heavy boredom was making it even harder to concentrate. It was brightened with the same curiosity I had felt from everyone else, but it didn't seem to carry over into my attempts to study. And it didn't help that sitting in a chair felt more unnatural every second. I finally stood up, but that only led to pacing and distractedly reading through all the English titles around the library.

I grew more worried by the hour that I had come halfway around the world for nothing. I had survived the interview and even gained the preliminary approval of the leaders, but here I was going to be dismissed before even touching a cloak, just because I couldn't sit still and study. My frustration only added to my thirst, which in turn made learning even more impossible. The little hour hand on the ticking clock moved slower and slower, and yet it felt as though my seventy-two hours were slipping away much too quickly.

I finally gave it up, hoping that a full stomach and some fresh air would help. I opened the door, expecting to see Felix or Gustav or some other hulking giant. Instead my gaze dropped down to find a petite young woman whose eyes barely made it up to my chest.

"Ma'am," I offered uncertainly, eyeing her black cloak. A Guard, or another leader?

"Hello, Jasper," she replied with a warm smile. "Done already?"

"I'm doing my best, Miss...?"

"Chelsea."

"And you're one of the Guards?"

"I am." She looked past me into the library. "Having trouble?"

I exhaled slowly, relieved to meet a Guard who would at least _talk_ to me. And she was much more pleasant to look at than Felix. "To be honest, I need a drink."

Her delicate mouth turned down. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait, Jasper. We feed on Saturdays."

"You only feed once a week?" I said in alarm. Once a _week_?

"We have a Guard whose duty it is to collect and deliver humans at regular intervals. We do not feed between those intervals."

"But you have an entire _city_ of humans right on your doorstep!" I motioned angrily toward the bustling sounds of human civilization.

"And how long do you think we could live among them in peace, if that were our habit?" She smiled. "We follow our own laws, Jasper. We founded Volterra many centuries ago, and it has always been this way. The Volturi have prefer to live in harmony with our human neighbors, to the mutual benefit of both parties."

I shook my head. "So you can feed on anyone _except_ the people in Volterra." She nodded.

 _Saturday_ , I thought miserably. I could certainly make it- it was only Wednesday. But my seventy-two hours might as well be over now.

"How often do you usually feed?" Chelsea asked gently. Her voice was uncommonly low for a woman. It was soothing, well-matched to her emotional stillness. I decided to trust her, at least for the moment.

"I'm accustomed to once a day," I began, gauging her reaction. She didn't even blink. "I've been training myself to go longer, though I've never yet made it to a week. I'm already having difficulty concentrating."

"I see."

She turned and walked away without warning. I went back into the library and glared down at the books, cursing myself for saying too much. No doubt she was already reporting my pathetic state to Caius, and I'd be out on the sidewalk by midnight. At least I'd be able to feed before Saturday.

I tried to contain the panic that was welling up inside me. This wasn't going to work. But I _needed_ it to work. It had been a long, long time since I had pursued a goal of my own choosing, and I had put myself through too much to fail now. Aside from a few eccentricities, I was, so far, impressed with the Volturi. And the things that seemed insurmountable- the studying and the weekly feeding- _weren't_ insurmountable. If someone like Felix could handle it, so could I. It would be an uphill climb, but that was Maria's fault. She had needed me to behave like a ragged, dependent savage, and so she had trained me to be one. This might be my only chance to turn myself into something much better. I breathed deeply, spinning my anger at Maria larger and larger and willing it to fuel me with strength. I pictured Caius' disdain, and his mocking grin if I should fail. If nothing else, I had to do this to prove to myself that I could. To prove to _them_ that I could be better than their low expectations for me.

I snatched up the grammar text and sat down so hard I nearly broke the chair. But I hadn't even gotten through a page when I heard Chelsea's footsteps returning.

"I have spoken with Aro, and he has arranged for you to feed tonight," she said, slipping into another one of the chairs. "But you must continue to train yourself. If you wish to be considered, you must learn to follow the feeding schedule, and you must be able to perform your duties throughout each week without undue distress. You will move among humans on a regular basis and we cannot risk an accident. A Guard who cannot control himself is a liability, one the Three will not suffer."

"I understand," I said quickly. "And thank you. But I'm curious, what duties would involve being around humans?"

She picked up the dictionary, sliding it closer to me. "I will answer all of your questions in time, Jasper. It is often my role to help new Guards, or candidates like yourself, adjust. For now, however, I think we must focus on the duty you have already been assigned. But first..." A line of annoyance appeared between her eyes. She reached over and picked up the little clock, extracting a battery. The ticking was immediately silenced. We breathed twin sighs of relief and I let out quiet chuckle.

"I didn't even think of that," I confessed. She smiled and folded her hands on the table, nudging the dictionary toward me again with her little finger.

" _Cominciamo_ ," she said, enunciating the syllables for me. "Let's begin."

.

.

.

Chelsea's help was invaluable over the next couple of days. It turned out she had been the Guard already assigned to help me with Italian anyway, since her duties sometimes included dealing with the local government officials, vendors, and so on. She soon agreed that studying a dictionary was a poor way to learn a language, and began practicing conversation with me from then on, adding vocabulary and grammar instruction as we went. It turned out Italian and Spanish were actually related, both being "romance languages", as she called them, and they shared some similar features: some common vocabulary, gendered nouns, formal and informal pronouns, familiar conjugation patterns, word order, and so on. Both were derived from Latin, Chelsea said- another language that I would eventually be learning.

Her very presence was soothing, which made me wonder if she was also an empath. I only managed to gather a few bits of information about her as we studied: mainly that she and her mate, Afton, were both ancient, though he was somewhat younger.

"I'm curious about you and Renata," I said. "You obviously weren't recruited for the same physical duties as Guards like Felix and Gustav. Do you have some unique ability?"

She merely gave me another of her calming smiles and moved on in her tutoring without so much as an emotional bump in the road. It didn't _feel_ like she was affecting my emotions, at least not abruptly, but then I had never met another empath before. I tried twice to ask similar questions, more indirectly, but I was gently discouraged. That was par for the course, though- apparently I wasn't to be given a room, or answers to my questions, or anything else during this trial period. I was lucky they were feeding me.

Aro made good on his word. Chelsea left me alone in the library around midnight, returning with a middle-aged human male in a business suit. The human began attacking me with questions as soon as he entered. I didn't understand the language, but I calmed him down the best I could for both our sakes. Chelsea excused herself, for which I was grateful. I was careful not to get any blood on my clothes or on the floor; who knew what kinds of protocols they followed for these things. When Chelsea came back in she glanced over my uniform with mild approval, so I counted that as a test passed.

"You are doing well," she insisted on the third day. "We have had candidates tear the library apart in their frustration, and others have simply disappeared during their time of study."

I frowned over at the silent clock with suspicion. "So this whole thing is another test?"

"Yes, and a necessary one. The languages are important, but self-control is paramount, as I have explained. Most of our applicants turn out to be unworthy. And there are some who serve the Volturi faithfully but are unfit to wear the cloak."

"Meaning what?"

Another smile and its accompanying deflection. Maybe that was another test in and of itself, to see if I knew how to keep quiet once the hint was given. I'd have to remember that. But even though Chelsea wasn't forthcoming, hers was the warmest welcome I'd received so far... and she genuinely seemed to want me to succeed. The fact that she'd scored the human for me on an off day meant that she had Aro's ear, as did the fact that Aro had responded to my difficulty by allowing me the human instead of showing me the door. She must have put in a good word for me. I still didn't know enough to unravel the power structure, but if Chelsea was somewhere near the top of the Guard, that meant her goodwill was the best thing going for me at the moment. I did my best to be a model student.

I was, ever so slowly, making progress with the Italian. Chelsea said I was lucky to be learning the Tuscan dialect, which was as close to "standard" Italian- the Italian in the books- as I was going to get. She promised more detailed practice in other dialects later on, if I stuck around.

"And we will have to see how the war unfolds," she added. "Fascism has already made its mark on the language." That made me want to ask ten more questions about how they were dealing with the war outside their walls, but I figured this was one of those times to keep my mouth shut. She was only letting me ask questions in Italian now anyway, and I couldn't put together an intelligent sentence about anything important yet.

"You will not feed with us in the Dining Room today," Chelsea announced Saturday morning. "Aro mentioned something about you having difficulty feeding in large groups...?"

I hesitated, measuring my words. It hadn't occured to me that there would be group feeding here-why would they choose to do that? And how did Aro guess that I might have trouble in such a setting? That confirmed the possibility that the leaders were accustomed to dealing with empaths... but if Chelsea were one herself, wouldn't she have the same problem?

"It's a private matter," I finally told her, "but yes, I think that would be best."

She raised her eyebrows slightly, offering no other sign of her irritation; apparently the shoe didn't fit so well on the other foot. "Very well. But please be aware that these arrangements are also temporary."

I gave her a polite nod of agreement. I considered pushing her a little more, asking if I could thank Aro in person, but I really was grateful. I didn't know how close the quarters were in this "Dining Room", and I didn't want the other Guards' first impression of me to be seeing me collapse under the weight of my gift. However Aro had known to guess my difficulty, this was the second gift he had given me since my arrival. But I was more curious to learn _why_ Aro was taking a special interest in me at all. Of "The Three", he had seemed the most flighty. I had honestly expected him to lose interest in me by now. In any case, it seemed the best way to show my gratitude here was to follow the assigned protocol... though there was nothing wrong with a little help.

I hadn't used my gift on Chelsea yet. I was truly impressed with her emotional stamina over the past few days. That aura, and her assistance in general, had been invaluable. I simply hadn't needed to influence her. But if she was in regular contact with Aro, I wanted her to be relaying the most positive impressions possible.

"I truly appreciate all your help," I began, gently reaching out to soothe her into serenity. "And please tell Aro that I'm especially grateful for his consideration. I'll continue doing everything in my power to meet and exceed his qualifications."

Chelsea returned my focused gaze for a long moment, giving me her warmest smile.

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**Next up: It's time to meet some more Guards!**


	12. Proving Ground

**I'm really excited about this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy it. Also, time for some more acknowledgments! As Jasper begins to get settled in Volterra, some of my headcanon has been partially inspired by Helena Mira's wonderful story, _Jewel in the Crown_. (a New Moon AU in which Bella and Edward were not allowed to return home) This was the first full-length Volturi story I ever read, and it really brought the halls of Volterra to life for me.**

**I've also gleaned lots of interesting ideas lately from Kyilliki, via her Volturi stories on here and her headcanons on Tumblr. Li's character and some of the aspects of training that you will see in the coming chapters was inspired by ideas from lots of cool people on Tumblr as well, especially Kyilliki, volturisecretary, forksfiction, mynameisginster, and panlight.**

**But most importantly, I am so grateful for all of you! :) Your faithful reading, comments and questions and ideas, and support has meant so much to me. I'm excited to announce that this chapter marks my one millionth word of fanfiction! While my updating speed is a little slower these days, I am still having so much fun and in a way I still feel like I'm just getting started. You guys have given me so much encouragement and confidence... none of this would have been possible without all of you!**

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As I had hoped, there was no formal examination. On the following Tuesday Chelsea abruptly stood up from the library table and announced that I was doing well enough to move on to the next phase of training.

"You will continue to practice Italian, of course, and you will also begin studying the other languages Caius has selected," she said, leading me through the maze of tunnels at her usual pace: brisk, to compensate for her smallness, but just as smooth as the others. I still hadn't been introduced to any of the other Guards, but I had seen a few more during these short walks, and it was almost unnerving the way they all moved. Like ghosts, or shadows, maybe. Was it a product of their vast age, or some kind of trademark style of movement I'd be required to learn? Felix was one exception, at least, with his broad swagger that nearly filled the width of the hall, but he was just as silent as the others. And he had moved like the others when he and Demetri had brought me in that first night.

"Will you be tutoring me in the other languages?" I asked Chelsea, walking double-time to keep up with her. I was accustomed to running whenever I wanted to get somewhere fast, but running was one thing nobody seemed to do around here.

"No. You will be assigned a different tutor for each one."

She disappeared from view, dropping down through a stairwell to the next level. I rolled my eyes and followed once her billowing cloak had been pulled out of the way. What was the point of the dignified shadow-walking if you were just going to parachute down through the holes between the levels? It sort of took the dignity right out of the whole thing.

But as far as I could tell, dignity seemed to be the currency of choice here in Volterra. The few murmured conversations I'd overheard were painstakingly polite, though I had detected all sorts of emotional flavors hanging in the air. It was disorienting to feel so much going on, and yet have hardly any framework to sort it into.

"This is Jasper," Chelsea announced as she pushed open a heavy door, and I suddenly found myself staring back at a crowd of cloaked vampires. We were in an enormous cavern, dimly lit by torches leaning out from the wall fifty feet above my head. I scanned the crowd briefly, recognizing some of the Guards I had met before, until I came to Caius. He was standing at the far right of the group, radiating his usual disdain. It was nearly lost in the crowd of curiosity, but I was more concerned with the single point of hatred coming from... someone. They were crowded too close to tell. It wasn't Felix; he was too far to the left.

I took a step forward, keeping my attention split between Caius and the emotional landscape. But when my shoe crunched against something, I looked down to find a thick layer of gravel underfoot. The entire cavern was roughly hewn from stone, with the "ceiling" supported by smoother pillars, though they also looked to be sculpted from the natural rock. The entire scene was a blend of white and black and gray, broken only by the cheerful flames of the torches and their light being reflected in more than two dozen red eyes.

"Let's see what you've got," Caius said, stepping further off to the side. The others broke out of their statuesque formation at his silent command, slowly moving to draw a wide semicircle around me.

Now this was more like it. I nodded, waiting to see what would happen next. It was Gustav who joined me in the center of the circle, handing his cloak to another Guard and eyeing me with eager apprehension. I slipped off the jacket of my uniform as well. When no hands went up to offer to catch it, I tossed it over onto a row of hooks mounted along the wall, where it caught nicely.

Was I supposed to wait for Caius' command to begin? In any case, I generally preferred to let my opponent strike first. If this trial period was really just a series of test to measure my civility, then it was even more important to show them that I could be patient. Gustav and I began to trace a smaller circle within the open space, looking each other up and down. I began to feed him a slow infusion of fear. Nothing too obvious.

"Any rules?" I asked Caius over my shoulder.

"No fire, no scars," Caius said blandly. "Begin."

Gustav charged like a rhino. I leapt up at the last second and ran down his back as he passed, eliciting a quiet ripple of laughter from our audience. Gustav turned and scowled, strolling back for more. This time he made a grab for me, and I let him get half a grip on my torso before spinning out of it and slamming my elbow into his gut on my way out. I was rewarded with the shrieking, metal-rending sound that meant the fight had truly begun. I threw a quick glance at Caius to make sure I hadn't crossed a line, but he was merely watching us with interest.

The flesh and bone had splintered nicely, but Gustav wasn't as distracted as I'd hoped. He followed me into my own spin, lunging and grabbing with both hands this time. I tucked myself small and low, bursting back up to throw him off his feet. While he was still in the air I swept around to the other side and met him with a blow that should have put him on his back, but didn't. He somersaulted in the other direction and landed on all fours, swiping out with a clawed hand that sliced the left side of my face to ribbons. The Guards shouted their approval as we rushed each other again.

"Stop," Caius announced, and we both froze in mid-attack. I stood up and relaxed my stance, not sure what to think. Was that supposed to be a win or a loss? Gustav was pleased with himself, at any rate. When he went back to stand with the others, the Guard next to him- the only bearded one- whispered something in his ear, but I couldn't hear what it was.

Felix was next. He surprised me by standing and waiting so I could put my cheek back together, and Caius made no objection. I took the chance to study the emotional field around us. Caius was frustratingly neutral, while most of the others were enjoying themselves. There were whispers being exchanged all through their line: their guesses to how Felix would fare against me. My instincts tingled again as I felt the single point of hatred, and I looked around the thinned-out circle until I found it. A male, mid-20s probably, skin somewhat dark, and nearly as big as Felix and Gustav. His black hair was divided into a mass of thick braids, tied back in a bundle. A stranger. So why did he hate me? His red eyes bored back into mine and his chin lifted with a deep sniff: a challenge. I kept looking around the circle, noting the varying shades of gray cloaks and the almost comical differences in height.

There were two females who were no taller than a child. One of them looked to be not much _older_ than a child, and next to her stood a half-grown boy whose features were curiously similar to hers. The rest were a collection of males with varying skin tones and builds. Demetri was one of the slighter ones. I saw a scar or two in the crowd, but for the most part everyone was perfectly whole and impeccably dressed in gray or black. I could feel varying degrees of disdain and curiosity aimed at me.

I gave Felix a nod once I was ready. Caius gave the order to begin, but neither of us moved. Felix let a slow grin seep out, which I returned. He stayed upright, and so did I. The Guards quieted as the tension rose.

"Jasper, attack," Caius ordered.

I hit him on his right side, grappling with his elbow to try and dislocate his shoulder as I passed. He shoved me away easily and we drew apart, crouching low this time. We both sprang forward and up, meeting in the air with the crash of thunder and falling apart again, both sporting cracked skin. He had slugged me in the jaw and broken it, whereas I had aimed a little higher. He would be partially blind in the left eye for a good ninety seconds, I decided, and swept off to my right to attack on that side. He stumbled backward, grabbing me by the shirt and throwing me into the crowd. I was kicked and punched back into the ring, right into his waiting hands. I panicked briefly as he got a good double grip on my throat. I tried my usual tricks to get out of it, but he was just too strong. He forced me down onto my knees, digging his thumbs into my throat so hard I could taste them. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Caius smiling. But I wasn't through yet.

I swung my legs forward and kicked Felix in the groin. He released me, shrieking through his teeth and glaring daggers at the approving hoots of his comrades. We flew around each other twice and slammed together again. I couldn't believe how quick he was, considering his build. I was used to fighting newborns of this size; he had none of their self-destructive instincts, though he also didn't seem to have any particular strategy either. This time he somehow got a meaty fist around my forearm and twisted until it snapped. I snarled in pain and gave him a savage kick to break free, sending two of his teeth flying out in different directions. He growled and drew back his fist.

"Next," Caius said, sounding bored.

This time it was a towering black man named Zaki. He was practically boiling over with amiable curiosity, but his face was an impassive mask. Like Felix, he waited until I was mostly healed, and I gave him the same nod of grudging thanks. He was even faster than Felix was, and more agile due to his thinner frame. His strategy seemed centered around disorienting me- darting in for a blow or a shove, then retreating and circling. I decided to even the odds by going for his feet, successfully crunching an ankle out of place, but not in time to escape a vicious chop between my neck and my shoulder. My left arm went limp, and he immediately played the advantage. I grabbed him close and rolled both of us into the shouting crowd. Caius called it off.

"Li," he called out. I busied myself with trying to realign my nose, turning in surprise to find one of the little females facing me. She gave me a restrained smile and the slightest hint of a bow, which I returned cautiously.

I wasn't stupid. For this shrimp of a girl to be matched against me, she probably had some ridiculously powerful gift. Was I about to be set on fire? Thrown into the wall with a mere glance? Made to cry like a baby in front of Caius? I suddenly recalled the more outlandish rumors I had heard about the Volturi, wondering how many of them were true. Or maybe this was another test, to see if I had it in me to maim a defenseless girl if I was ordered to. Judging by her quiet confidence, I highly doubted that was the case. I glanced back at Caius warily, looking for clues. He flicked a finger, motioning for us to begin.

I stepped backwards instead. Whatever she was going to do to me, I wanted to give myself plenty of room. Muted laughter echoed around the cavern, but I held my ground. The girl stepped forward slowly, holding herself loose. When she was inches away I rushed around her left side, grabbed her neck, and shoved her into the gravel face first. But instead of faceplanting, she rolled forward and reappeared behind my arm. I jammed my knee into the back of hers, and again she took the momentum, somersaulting backwards over my head. I grabbed her shoe and pulled down, getting a series of kicks in my face for my trouble. I almost bit her ankle when it grazed my mouth, but remembered Caius' rule just in time. We pulled apart.

She was getting angry, though her expression was as serene as ever. Maybe she wasn't gifted after all? I rushed her again, trying to guess which way she'd evade me. I twisted and dove left at the last second. I had guessed right- my fingers closed around her slender arm and I threw her down, wrenching her wrist out of place as I let go. She hissed and bared her teeth, but didn't miss a step. She rolled clear and bounced back up, her eyes roving over my body with calculated readiness while she tugged on the injured wrist with her other hand. I stirred her anger higher as we circled each other again. She seemed young; not a newborn, but I had a feeling she hadn't reached her fifth year. I pressed harder, trying to boil her into a careless rage.

"Finish him, Li!" someone called. She snarled and attacked from the air, hitting me with such a hurricane of feet and fists that I couldn't make sense of it. I felt a sharp blow under my chin and behind my knees, and my back finally hit the ground. She followed me down, attempting to hook her legs around my elbows. I gritted my teeth to avoid biting, kicking up instead. But I was flipped through the air at lightning speed and landed hard on my face, my arms twisted behind my back an inch from the breaking point. She had gotten her legs threaded through mine like some mutant pretzel. I strained to roll us or throw her, but I kept hitting a wall of my own skin. She tightened her grip on my crossed wrists, preparing to pull. I could feel that her grip on the one side was weaker, though I preferred not to lose _either_ of my arms on my first day.

I finally jerked us over into a roll toward her injured side, but she caught herself and struggled to push me back. Her leverage, some tangled operation of legs and arms and angles, had somehow put our strength on equal footing. We were frozen in place for a moment as we strained against each other. I could feel the torque on my shoulders slowly increasing. The chatter among the Guards was really warming up now, and in her favor too. I finally realized that I could still move my left foot, and began kicking to try and get a purchase on the ground, but the gravel was too loose.

"Enough," Caius said, and I was suddenly fighting open air. Li was already back in line with her comrades, shrugging back into her cloak and looking pretty satisfied with herself. I spat out a mouthful of gravel and slid to my feet, gingerly testing the movement of my shoulders. "Now," Caius went on, "tell us when you were using your gift, and which emotions."

Judging by the rush of surprise that I felt from the Guards, they hadn't known that I was an empath. I tried to swallow my anger, but it wouldn't go down. Did he _have_ to do this? Pausing every fight at the exact moment when my performance looked its worst, and introducing my gift this way- like it was some sort of crutch I couldn't fight without? My hopes that Caius wasn't closely involved with the Guards' training were shrinking with every minute. I drew in everyone's disappointment and forced it to reshape itself into approval, throwing it back in their faces.

"Well?" Caius demanded.

I could lie. I _wanted_ to. But the truth was that my gift was an integral part of who I was... part of the reason I was being considered in the first place. I lived and breathed emotion, and if they wanted that at their disposal, then they'd better get used to seeing it in action.

"Fear, at Gustav," I began, carelessly gesturing toward the giant in question. "Only at the beginning. Nothing for Felix and Zaki. I stirred up a lot of anger in Li in the middle of that last fight."

Caius frowned, though he seemed to be mildly pleased with my candor. I began to influence him as well, ever so slowly dialing up any positive emotion I thought might help me out. I had never needed to make someone feel impressed before; I wasn't even sure what the emotional ingredients should be. "Why didn't you influence Felix or Zaki?" he asked.

I shot Felix the same smirk we had shared earlier. "Didn't need to." I could see Gustav's blinding grin out of the corner of my eye.

"And with Li, why anger?"

I turned back to Caius, ignoring Felix's quiet growl. "Two reasons. One, she was already getting angry by that point, and I find it easiest- and quickest- to work with an emotion that's already present. Two, because although it's obvious she's not a newborn, I'm guessing she's still relatively young...?"

"Two years," Caius agreed.

"That's what I thought. Even though the newborn months are the most volatile by far, I could tell her emotional stability isn't quite settled yet. In my experience most vampires, but especially younger ones, tend to make more mistakes when they've reached a certain point of fury. Even though she's well-trained, I had a feeling that stirring her anger would work in my favor."

"And did it?" he asked, smiling thinly.

I shrugged, looking back her way to mask my influence. "It may have made things worse. Depends on the person. Once I'm more familiar with her style, I'll know. Who's next?"

Caius studied me for a long moment. "Your offense is chaotic and your style is disorganized," he pronounced. "If you even _have_ a style. But it will have to serve as a starting point. No doubt you've picked up any number of bad habits over your years in the Southern Wars. I have to admit that I'm impressed, though; it must have been difficult to restrain yourself from biting everyone in sight."

I clenched my teeth, refusing to react to the insults. Was this his way of saying that I had made the cut?

" _If_ we decide to accept you, it's going to take some time to rid you of those habits," he added drily, turning toward the others. "I have other matters to attend to tonight. Etienne and Santiago, you have patrol. The rest of you, keep working with Jasper." One of the two Guards who swept out of the room behind him was the one who hated me, which made him either Etienne or Santiago.

It was like a switch was suddenly turned off. The remaining Guards relaxed out of their formation and a few drifted in smaller groups. Judging by the way they mumbled to each other inaudibly and continued to look me over, they were probably sharing their impressions of my performance so far. I made my way over to Gustav, wondering who would turn out to be in charge, now that Caius wasn't here. I was hoping for Demetri- he was one of those who seemed ageless and ancient, and there had to be something significant about his cloak being darker- but it was Felix who strolled closer, wearing a threatening grin. Several of the others followed his lead.

Great.

I didn't think he was going to attack, so I stood my ground while he circled me slowly. He grasped my chin and roughly twisted my head to the side, inspecting my scars. He moved my hair aside so that everyone could see the chunks missing out of my neck.

"Didn't know vampires could get the pox."

"Didn't know vampires could squeal like pigs," I shot back. A comfortable sense of humor lightened the wariness surrounding me.

Felix scowled back, but his affect felt a little friendlier too. "We're going to get back to sparring, Pox. You can join us once you find the other tooth you knocked out." He ran his tongue over his teeth, indicating the hole I had left behind. I clenched my half-healed jaw, focusing on the pain to prevent myself from acting on my indignation. _I_ was accustomed to be being the one to give the orders and hand out the insulting jobs. But my injuries really could use some more time to heal, and I knew it would be best to follow the order. This time.

While I slowly combed through the gravel of the cavern floor to look for the tooth, I watched the training with interest. Demetri and the half-grown boy and girl stayed on the sidelines near the row of neatly hung cloaks, but most of the others took turns pairing off in various combinations to fight, sometimes going two against one. As the hours wore on I began to sort out the individual style of each of the Guards, and to learn their names as they called to each other or commented on each other's performance.

Felix's style was typical for his build. He relied- as was only natural- on his size, strength, and wingspan. I expected him to shatter his opponents right and left, but only occasionally did I hear the sound of broken or torn flesh. I wondered if I had broken some unspoken rule by inflicting the level of damage I had in my bouts... just not _Caius'_ rule. There was no telling how many decades or centuries this bunch had been serving together; it was a given that they would have a society all their own, apart from the government of their leaders. I was already seeing hints of roles and rules within that society, quietly watching who deferred to who, who didn't stick around for the sparring at all, and who stood and watched.

There was one male who seemed to be in some kind of trouble, sulkily staying on the wall the whole time. No one had yet spoken his name; they were ignoring him altogether. I hadn't yet learned the names of the boy and girl either, as they had lost interest and wandered off- if they were even members of the Guard at all.

I also wondered who was missing. Afton could possibly be the sulking male, but I knew Chelsea and Renata, at least, weren't in here. There could be any number of others, off on other duties like Etienne and Santiago or excused from training this particular time. But even if this was the whole group, I couldn't comprehend how, or _why_ , they fed all together.

Demetri finally pulled away from the wall. My theory about the dark cloaks must have been wrong, because although I detected a subtle shift in the other Guards' behavior when he swirled his cloak up onto a hook and selected his first opponent, Felix remained unquestionably in charge. He called out instructions to the pairs that were training now and then, and he sometimes arranged the matches, but overall, he seemed to run a loose ship. I'd have to wait and see if I liked that or not.

The most interesting technique belonged to a tall, rather spindly vampire who Felix called Michelangelo- surely that was a nickname, since he apparently enjoyed handing those out? And a couple of the others called him "Spider." At first I thought it was because he was all legs and arms, but then I saw how he liked to run or leap up onto one of the walls and spring away in a new direction. He even did it sometimes when he wasn't sparring... for fun, I supposed, or just to get some energy out. At first I wondered if he had some kind of supernatural ability that allowed him to "stick" to the walls, but on closer examination he had developed a technique in which he rolled his hands and feet against the surface of the stone wall, giving him enough contact time to shift his angle of exit. I'd have to try that... preferably when no one was looking.

Gustav and Zaki felt remarkably similar when they fought: cheerful and eager. But their styles couldn't have been more different. Gustav, like Felix, relied on his size and brute strength, though he was far more reckless. The closest to a newborn in terms of strategy, or lack thereof. Zaki was nearly as tall as Gustav, but had to weigh at least a hundred pounds less. So he also relied on his wingspan in his offensive reach, but otherwise depended on speed, not strength. And he was _fast_ \- nearly a blur to my eyes at his fastest, and that was saying something. It made him a natural at defense, and should have meant his offensive strategy was terrible. But he seemed to be employing a few of the odd moves Li had used on me earlier.

Li herself didn't seem to be particularly welcome in the training room. Possibly because of her newness- which didn't bode well for me, if that was the case- but more likely because she was a woman. I had long ago learned the lesson that a female opponent was perfectly capable of dismembering and incinerating a man in less time than it took him to say "well ain't this cute," and I doubted anyone in the Volturi Guard would be so naive, but this training room was unmistakably male territory. The disdain aimed toward her stank more of indignation than of dismissal or amusement. She seemed accustomed to this treatment, though she stuck around for a while.

Not everyone was so dismissive of their sister-in-arms. Gustav and Zaki were friendly enough towards her, and another one called Pavlo seemed especially interested in sitting out with her whenever Felix would let him. They didn't feel like a mated pair, but these things weren't always obvious to my gift, at least not right away. I'd do well to sort out who belonged to who as soon as possible. I was curious to see whether pairing off was encouraged or discouraged around here. As far as I knew the only mated pair was Chelsea and Afton.

Marco and Carlo seemed to prefer to fight in tandem. Like the boy and girl, they shared enough features to make me wonder if they had been related in their human lives. Felix was employing them whenever someone was practicing two-on-one, though he and Gustav had joined forces against them earlier in the night. The cavern actually seemed to shake during that particular match.

I was getting frustrated. Every piece of gravel looked different, especially in the flickering torchlight; how was I ever supposed to find a damn _tooth_? When I had knocked them out they had flown off toward the door, which was where I had also seen Felix pick the one up, but the other one was nowhere to be found. And if Caius should come back I wanted to be seen training, not hunched over the ground and failing at my first "assignment". I stood up to my full height, angrily surveying the endless carpet of gray crumbs in search of a glint of white.

"What's the matter, Pox?" Gustav called gleefully. "Can't find it?"

"He's got enough teeth, hasn't he?" I growled back, crouching down again to examine the next section of gravel.

Felix boomed out a chuckle, whisking something out from his pocket and flipping it up into the air. He caught it in his mouth, maneuvering his jaw to get it back into place. A clatter of applause and cheers erupted and I shook my head in disbelief, finally grinning along with the others when I could no longer resist the buoyant atmosphere. It felt surprisingly familiar- I couldn't remember any specifics, but there had definitely been rites of passage like this back in my human days. Rude nicknames, humiliating jobs, pranks... dues to be paid when a fresh-faced recruit had been given the honor of joining our regiment. Or was it my own initiation I was vaguely remembering? If I was already being put through those hoops here, I'd take that as a good sign.

"Now you will know where to look next time something is missing," Zaki announced with his heavy accent. "In Felix's trousers!"

The applause shifted into a roar of approval, sending Felix into another scowl, though this time it resembled more of a pout. He sniffed. "All right, Pox, you and Amin."

I made my way to the center of the cavern, studying my opponent as he approached. Amin, the bearded one, looked like he had been changed a little older in his human life than the others. I had only seen him fight twice so far, though I had heard him speak a few times. His accent, like Zaki's, was one I had never heard before. The thought made me realize, with a start, that everyone had been speaking English this whole time. I wondered if that was for my benefit, or if everyone just spoke English here because it was one they all knew in common. I _sincerely_ hoped that was the case.

I hadn't yet been able to determine Amin's favored technique, if he had one, so I carefully watched his movements, his expression, and his emotions as we slowly circled each other. He seemed more serious than his younger comrades; most of his comments so far had been critiques on the training, and now his focus on me was absolute. He feinted to the left, but there wasn't the emotional surge that usually preceded the attack, so I didn't fall for it. We completed another half turn and both decided to lunge forward at the same instant. We grappled at each other's shoulders without success and fell apart.

I crouched low this time, waiting for him to strike first. He finally leapt up and struck the right side of my neck, but the real attack was a low left hook that sent me sprawling. I tumbled back up into the crouch and waited again, working hard not to grimace or alter my stance. I was used to broken ribs, but he had dislodged something that wasn't going back into place like it should. He struck again, but this time I grabbed his arm and vaulted over it, adjusting my aim at the last second so the kick was to his kidney, not his spine. He took it hard, and I couldn't help but let out an audible grunt of pain as I delivered, so Felix called it off.

"Excellent move, Jasper," Amin offered, leaning against the wall and squinting while he healed.

I nodded my thanks, glad that someone was finally addressing me in conversation. And with my actual name, no less. I eased myself down onto the edge of a bench-shaped ledge that had been carved out of the wall. I peeled up the left side of my shirt, twisting to try and see the damage. "Pleased to meet you, Amin. And I'd like to learn whatever you did to my ribs... it's not even healing right."

He smiled graciously at the compliment. Then, without warning, he jammed his fingers into my shattered side and yanked them back out with a crunch. I screamed through my clenched teeth, looking around on the gravel for the rib he had just torn out. But instead I felt a familiar crackling sensation as the healing began.

"I was a physician," he explained.

Everyone had paused their training to stare over at us. I waved a signal that we were all right, and a good half of them winced in unison when they saw my injury, murmuring to each other about my having received the usual welcome from "the doc."

"You'll feel that rib for a good two days," Felix promised cheerfully.

"Thanks," I grumbled up at Amin. He smiled wide, showing three missing teeth. I was _not_ combing the gravel for those teeth, whatever they said.

The jovial atmosphere evaporated a moment later when Caius reentered the chamber. He parked himself at his original spot on the wall and waved his hand for everyone to resume whatever they had been doing.

"I see you've made yourself at home," he said, frowning down at me. "Shall we bring you a pillow?"

I slid to my feet, gingerly touching the injury through my shirt. "I'm ready for more, sir. Just recovering from Amin's "doctoring." I felt a few subdued smiles behind me, but Caius wasn't amused.

"Amin, Marco, Michelangelo, Zaki. You're in the reading room today. Felix, you will escort Jasper to Aro's study."

Felix nodded solemnly, going for his cloak. "Yes, Master."

_Master?_

The Guards all donned their cloaks and began to follow Caius out of the room, but I just stood frozen as they passed, processing the word I must have heard wrong. Was this some kind of joke?

"Well?" Felix said gruffly. His careless cheerfulness from earlier had vanished. I fetched my jacket and followed him out into the hall, determined to get some answers this time.


	13. Cloak

I followed closely behind Felix, testing his mood as we made our way deeper into the tunnels. His affect and even his posture altered with every flickering torch we passed. Soon he was carrying himself like he had done out on patrol last week: tall and serious, emanating serenity. His broad swagger had narrowed into the stately float-walk. He still felt closed off to me, as he had felt since the instant Caius had returned to the training room.

This was one emotion I was used to battling; Maria had always been a tough nut to crack, too. I slowly pulled down his guard as we walked down the longest tunnel I had yet seen. The sounds of human civilization above us slowly quieted and finally ceased as we moved onward.

"Are we outside Volterra now?" I asked, breaking the silence.

He nodded, coming to an abrupt stop when we dead-ended at a T. The larger stone masonry had ended, replaced by neat rows of bricks. There were several doors lining the hall we were exiting, as well as the new hall it intersected. "Turn around and close your eyes," he ordered.

I obeyed, hearing the scrape of brick on brick a moment later. There was a jangle of keys, and another scrape, and then I was allowed to open my eyes again.

"We're to the east of the city now," he said, stooping low to pass through the door he had opened. I followed suit, then stood back up in surprise to see the new hall we were standing in.

It was an entirely different world. The rough stone floor beneath my feet had transformed into a wide path of gleaming marble. Instead of torches, the walls were lit with elegant lamps leaning in their sconces, each with a gently flickering tongue of flame that gave off a pleasant, lightly floral scent. Between the lamps hung enormous paintings depicting all sorts of scenes and creatures. Everything was spotless.

"The castle is inverted underground," Felix explained in a more subdued voice, walking on. "There are several levels beneath the city, but that last hallway stretches out into the hills. It leads to an ancient church. If you're chosen you'll get the tour."

I pressed him harder, willing him to relax. "And do you think I'll be chosen?"

Felix chuckled, though he wasn't smiling inside. "You've got marble under your feet, haven't you?"

Well, that just made me want to ask ten more questions. But before I had the chance to ask the one that was still pressing on me, Felix stopped at another door. He gave it a gentle tap.

"Send him in, Felix," Aro's voice called out. Felix gave me an encouraging nod and stepped back, waving me on inside.

The office was as crowded and complicated as the hallway had been spotless. I was obliged to step over and around dusty piles of papers, scrolls, little statues, and a dozen other artifacts I couldn't begin to guess at. Aro was completely obscured behind an array of shelves planted haphazardly throughout the room, each sporting its own teetering pile of miscellany. My gaze caught on a book whose cover depicted both the U.S. and Confederate flags, but when I turned to look more closely, my elbow grazed a fancy urn, sending it tumbling to the floor at an alarming speed.

"Oh do be _careful_...!" Aro cried, appearing out of thin air and reaching uselessly past the low shelf he stood behind. Felix slammed the door back open, looking around in worry. I caught the urn just in time; it was heavier than it had looked. Aro waved Felix away, letting out a luxurious sigh of relief.

"Sorry about that," I told him, gently settling the urn back on its perch and feeling like an idiot. I finally presented myself with an awkward bow, which must have looked utterly ridiculous amid the cloud of dust and fluttering papers Felix had stirred up with the door.

Aro let out a breathless laugh, returning to his hiding place behind the mess. "No harm done, my young friend. Please, make yourself at home."

At his invitation, I picked my way through more loose piles of collectibles and finally found the wide, ornate desk he had been seated at. The desk itself was perfectly clean, but for a messy pile of tiny wooden sticks in the middle of it. I squeezed past more junk and took the proffered chair in front of the desk, glancing uncomfortably around to make sure I wasn't about to dislodge anything else. I supposed when a vampire lived in one place this long, he might well collect a roomful of garbage. How could he stand spending any time in here, surrounded so closely with all these... possessions?

Aro took his own seat. "Now, Jasper. I am most eager to hear how your first days with us have been spent."

I watched him for a moment, wondering what he wanted. Now that his anxiety over the urn had passed, he was feeling pleasant enough toward me. Was this another interview? Or was he ready to give me some good news?

"I've been in the library, mostly," I began. "Learning Italian. Chelsea has been very helpful."

He hummed to himself, extracting a pair of miniature tools from a small drawer in the desk. I watched in confusion as he poked and prodded at the pile of sticks with meticulous care. "She has been reporting favorably on your progress," he said to the sticks. "She is also quite pleased with your self-control, considering your... difficulties."

"Yes, I wanted to thank you for the extra blood. Chelsea told me about the weekly feeding schedule, and I'll do my best to-"

"Jasper," he interrupted, laying down his tools and giving me a frank look, "I am sure you are aware of the reputation that a vampire of your particular background must overcome here in civilized society. I am afraid that if you wish to be accepted, you will have to do better than your _best_ in this area, and in many others. I have accommodated your thirst twice now, as our visitor, but as a Guard you must not depend on such selective treatment."

I sat a little straighter. "Of course, sir. I will adhere to the schedule from now on." Aro nodded graciously, and there was a pause. "I've spent the past evening in the Guards' training room."

Aro leaned back in his chair- it was one of those spinning office chairs- and studied me. His stare was a little unnerving, though more generous than Caius'. "And how did you fare against our esteemed Guards?"

"All of my matches ended in a draw. Caius called them off after a while each time, and Felix did the same when Caius had left the room."

He lifted his eyebrows in incredulity, though I detected no feeling of surprise. "A draw, every time? That is impressive, young Jasper."

"Hardly," I scoffed, surprised at my own candor.

"But it is!" Aro protested. "Despite your years of, ah, _military_ service, you can hardly have much experience fighting against mature vampires such as yourself. To fare so well against the most highly-trained soldiers in our world is nothing to be ashamed of." He smiled. "But then, Caius _is_ nearly impossible to please."

"Once I'm more familiar with their styles—" I began, but he waved his hand to stop me.

"I am sure you will do very well under Caius' and Felix's care. I confess I have little interest in those matters. I am far more concerned with how _you_ are faring, Jasper. I think you must have some questions for me?"

I relaxed back into the chair, relieved. _Finally._ "I have a _lot_ of questions."

"Then perhaps it would be more expedient for me to hear all of them at once. You see... I have my own small gift. I am able to observe your thoughts with only a touch. May I?" He extended his palm.

I stared down at his hand, trying to wrap my mind around the idea. _Small_ gift, indeed. An actual telepath...it was one of the wilder rumors I had heard about the Volturi, but I had always chalked it up as one of the legends, like the Fire Witch. I didn't know if I liked the idea of anyone being able to hear my thoughts. But I realized, with an uncomfortable twist in my gut, that he had probably already done so twice before, on the day I had arrived: the handshakes... the little touches with the others. I rubbed my fingers together, disliking the idea even more. It seemed like a violation, in a way... though I supposed I wasn't one to talk. And this was no time to be skittish. If I was as close to being accepted as I thought, I supposed I would have to cooperate eventually. I reached over and laid my hand on his.

"Ah," he said happily, and withdrew his hand after a moment. "I see you are settling in quite nicely after all. And it appears that Caius _was_ rather impressed with your performance this evening."

I almost opened my mouth to protest, but it wasn't a credit to my gift that I hadn't figured that out myself. So that was what Caius felt like when he was impressed? Charming. I wondered what it would feel like to be on his _bad_ side.

"I am curious about one thing, however... forgive me, but I find your empathic gift so intriguing! Even with my own gift I cannot quite follow along with its function in your thoughts. Why did you not employ it more fully when you were training with our Guards?"

"What do you mean? I'm always using my gift. I don't have a choice."

"Of course... but I meant the influence that you are capable of exerting. Why did you not press your opponents with the same terror you demonstrated for us on your first day?"

I shook my head. "I rarely use that much effort. It takes time to work up to that level, and it's actually less effective in a combat scenario, whether in training or battle, because my opponent is already feeling intense emotion. Even if I did succeed in creating that level of terror in someone I'm about to be grappling with—in other words, someone I'm about to be inches away from, or less—I wouldn't be able to resist feeling that fear, myself. It would just become a liability." Aro seemed entranced, so I went on. "Besides, inducing fear often isn't the best strategy in combat. It depends on the person, and on the situation; sometimes anger is better, or fear, or even something more positive, like overconfidence. Sometimes the best strategy is to drain my opponent of emotion altogether, if I can manage it. An apathetic fighter is a slower fighter. And... well, to be honest, I was more concerned with making a _good_ impression on the Guards tonight than making a _powerful_ impression. That usually isn't accomplished by bowling over and embarrassing the men I'm hoping to serve alongside."

Aro's eyes moved back and forth rapidly for a few moments, as though he were holding an invisible newspaper up in front of his eyes. "Yes... yes, I see now... there have been many instances where you have decided to keep your influence more subtle. Especially where Maria was concerned. Interesting." His eyes continued to flicker, as he presumably combed through my memories in retrospect. I sat and waited in silence, feeling a little uncomfortable. Was the touch only for show, and he was reading my mind right now? Or was that one touch enough to gather all the thoughts I had ever had? I didn't have anything to hide, exactly, but it was alarming to think that he could just page through everything I had ever done whenever he pleased—everything I had ever _thought_. It was especially uncomfortable to realize that he now had access to the most intimate moments with Maria... and the most dangerous things I had thought about her, as well. My plans, on the day Peter had come for me.

"Ah," Aro sighed, his eyes finally coming back into focus. "Now. As to your questions. For many of them, my answer must simply be: patience. I am sure you will understand that security is our first priority when dealing with a visitor, or a candidate such as yourself. We do have enemies. It would be most imprudent to disclose any unnecessary details regarding our procedures, and even our organization, to anyone who cares to ask." I nodded my agreement. It did make sense.

"I understand that you are also curious about the term _Master_ that our Guards have a tendency to use...?"

I frowned, hiding my relief that we had moved on. "Yes. Don't you think that's a little degrading?"

"That is a rather amusing opinion, young man, considering you were once a Confederate soldier."

"I wasn't fighting for _slavery_."

Aro leaned back in his chair once again, twisting it back and forth imperceptibly. He steepled his fingers together underneath his chin, studying me like I was a work of art... or maybe a fascinating insect. "So you have always told yourself," he said with a thoughtful smile.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I challenged, forgetting myself.

"Nevertheless," he continued, "your particular history is coloring your perception of the word. You are young, my boy, and woefully uneducated—a lack that will certainly need to be addressed! But for now, I can assure you that the word _master_ has meant a great many things throughout the course of human history, and the history of our kind, as well. To many of us who hail from previous eras, the terms means _teacher_ , more than anything else. It would have been used by an apprentice when addressing his mentor, or by a student addressing his tutor. It was often used between free men of equal social standing, whenever one was training or leading the other in any sense. An honorific that denotes respect, certainly, but in the most positive way. Is that sufficient?"

"Maybe," I admitted, "but it's still... well, would I be expected to use this 'honorific' if I am accepted into the Guard?"

"Caius will certainly expect it," he replied. "Like yourself, he prefers a certain degree of structure, and that address has long been the custom here in Volterra. And I freely admit that I find the term... endearing, though I do not require it in most cases. Marcus will not care either way. But surely you have noticed that it is not used in every instance. In time, you will come to see when it is appropriate to be more forthright in conversation with your leaders"—he gestured around the room, indicating our current conversation— "and when more decorum is to be expected. This is our home, Jasper, as well as our headquarters. Our Guards are given time for friendships and personal pursuits, but your life here will be an ordered one. Does that trouble you?"

"Not at all," I said quickly. "To be honest, I had hoped to find a sense of military organization when I sought you out."

"Yes," Aro agreed, surveying me intently again. "You have missed it, I think. Life with your creator was often frustrating in that sense, was it not? She did not always welcome your ideas to organize her methods, or your fondness for orderly discipline."

"That's right. And speaking of Maria... I hope this isn't too bold, but when can I expect action on my request? For the Guard to be mobilized against her and the other coven leaders in the Southern Wars?"

Aro's smile held, though several emotions rose and fell in rapid succession. He finally settled into annoyance; I had pushed too hard on this one.

"I apologize," I added quickly. "Perhaps that was too bold after all."

"Perhaps," Aro said smoothly. He picked up his tools again and began to pick at the pile of sticks on the desk. "I understand it is difficult to be patient. You feel your information is time sensitive, but I am afraid Caius may disagree. You are so very young, Jasper, and while your existence has felt like an eternity to you, it has really only been a small fraction of a long history of unrest in that region. It is one of several such problems that we must address on a regular basis. I can promise you that we will be taking your report into the highest consideration, and that it may very well bring about a significant change in our plans in the coming months and years- which, I confess, is already a rather complicated matter, considering the difficulty of the humans' war just now. But I cannot say whether you, as our newest Guard, will be a part of those discussions, or invited on any particular mission. I am afraid there are indeed, as you so wisely thought earlier this evening, 'dues to be paid.'"

I fought to control the anger that threatened to break free. I had already been too "forthright" in this conversation as it was. "I understand that, sir. But wouldn't my experience be invaluable on such a mission?"

Aro rummaged in the drawer for a moment, producing a scarlet thread. He carefully worked to tie it onto the tangle of sticks. "Perhaps it will. For the time being, however, I must ask you to accept that there are many aspects of our operation that you, as a new Guard, will not be privy to. There are several levels of... clearance, I believe is the modern term. And be warned, my young friend: I mean that in the most literal sense. There are areas within our establishment that you will not be permitted to see... that you may never see. There are considerations that you will not be made aware of, because it is not your role to be aware of them. There will be orders given that you will not fully understand, because it will not be your role to fully understand them. In time, when you have earned our trust and proven your worth, then it may be that you will be elevated to a fuller participation in the administration of our justice."

He reached into the drawer again, this time producing a small glass bottle. He removed the cork and replaced it with the bunch of sticks, ever so carefully pushing them inside. He seemed to forget me for a moment, using one of his tools to prod at the sticks inside the bottle.

"The Volturi have many roles," he finally continued, focusing intently on his task. "We are not merely the rulers of a species, nor is the Guard merely a military organization. It is our role—our calling— to guard and guide the vampire world through the rocky seas of history and of the future. I think you, of all vampires, are keenly aware of the darkness that will forever haunt our nature... the chaos and violence that our kind are capable of."

"That's why I'm here."

"That is why you are here," he repeated blithely, finally laying aside the tool. He pulled on the scarlet thread ever so gently, and inside the glass bottle the wooden pieces began to open up and stand in a delicate formation. From the mangled pile of wooden scraps arose a perfect miniature castle, complete with towers, turrets, balustrades, and even a little drawbridge. "Ah! Here we are. The trick, you see, is to help each of the separate pieces fulfill its unique function. Only when they are precisely arranged can they work together to form a perfect whole."

"In other words, you're not willing to tolerate a Guard who doesn't know his place?"

He laughed, giving me another of his strange smiles. "I think you and I will get along splendidly, Jasper."

I nodded, not sure whether that was an answer or not, but his good humor was unmistakable. I had an ally in Aro, as I had hoped. And though he was only one of the Three, and an odd character at that, it was immensely encouraging—not only for my acceptance, which he seemed to be heavily implying, but for my prospects in the coming years.

Aro grew solemn again, turning the bottle this way and that to inspect his final product. "We all have our roles here in Volterra, you know. We are each here to serve the vampire world, employing our unique gifts and skills toward that end. Even my brothers and I, when we sit enthroned, are servants, in a sense. It is often a thankless task, and a consuming one, but I believe there is no cause that could bring more fulfillment." He leaned over and rested the glass bottle upon a shelf beside the desk, nestling it gently into a wooden cradle. "Are you prepared to offer yourself in service to that world, Jasper?"

I sat up on the edge of my chair, as straight as I could. "Yes sir, I am prepared."

He stood. "Then, Jasper, creation of Maria of Mexico, I welcome you into the Volturi Guard."

I grinned and stood as well, trying and failing to contain my enthusiasm. I grasped his outstretched hand and opened my mouth to thank him, but that was unnecessary, wasn't it? I met his eyes and poured my relief into the thoughts I knew he wanted to hear.

_Thank you, Master._

.

.

.

"Don't forget!" Chelsea commanded as we circled up through the stairwell into the tower. This time she was the one scurrying to keep up. "You don't kneel when Caius picks up the cloak, you kneel when he— "

"When he takes it off his arm. You've told me three times now," I said impatiently, waiting for her short legs to bring her up to my level. "I may be a mothbitten veteran of an illegal war, but I've got an indelible memory, same as any vampire."

Chelsea hummed a sigh and propelled me out into the hall. We stopped at the door to the audience chamber and she gave me a final inspection, brushing hard at my clothes. I still had on the Italian army uniform. Vampires didn't sweat, and there wasn't much dirt to be had here inside the tower, but I had been wearing these things for over a week now.

"If you want me to look my best, you could have gotten me some—ow!" I hissed, jerking away when she ripped her fingers through a tangle in my hair.

"It's tradition to wear your old clothing when you are presented with your cloak," she explained, hooking my hair back behind my ears and adjusting my collar. "But that's no reason to look disorganized. Don't worry, most of us wear gray anyway. You'll find some new things waiting for you when you are shown to your quarters later today, and then you'll be permitted to choose your own clothing, within reason."

"Do these quarters include showers?"

"There," she pronounced, tugging down on my jacket and looking me over one last time. "Are you ready?"

"Ready. And, Chelsea... thank you. For everything so far."

She smiled and nudged me around to face the door. "Good luck," she whispered, opening it for me.

Everyone was in attendance- at least everyone I had met so far, plus a few I hadn't met. They were lined up in two columns, leading up to the dais where Aro, Caius, and Marcus stood waiting. Caius stood in the center this time, not Aro. Draped over the arm of the center throne behind him was a gray cloak. I had finally gotten it out of Chelsea that the color of the cloak did indeed reflect rank, though she claimed there were no titles of address associated with each color. She was less interested in discussing why her cloak was the same pure black as the Three, but I was getting used to her selective hearing. It seemed to be a common enough ailment here in Volterra.

As I slowly proceeded through the column of Guards with Chelsea at my back, I could detect any number of variations in the gray of the cloaks I was passing. And upon closer inspection, Chelsea's cloak was a plainer fabric than the one worn by the Three, though their cloaks were all unique anyway. I noted with surprise that while my cloak was one of the lightest in the room, it wasn't _the_ lightest. I was also surprised to note that several cloaks were darker—much darker—than Felix's. The darkest gray was actually worn by the matching boy and girl.

As I drew nearer the dais, each pair of Guards turned and faced forward as I passed. There were some I had never met before, I realized with curiosity. And there were two women near the head of the line that didn't seem to be following the dress code at all, though their cloaks fit in with those of the other Guards. There was an empty space at the end for Chelsea, but when I glanced back at the line again, I saw that it wasn't ordered by rank. I also realized that not everyone was here after all. The paler of the two who had been out on patrol the night I had spent in the training room—the one who hated me—was missing from the scene, though I still didn't know whether he was Etienne or Santiago.

Chelsea passed me and took her place, and I reached the dais.

Caius stepped forward an inch, inclining his head as he spoke aloud. "Welcome, Jasper, creation of Maria of Mexico, creation of Lupita of Monterrey."

"Welcome," Marcus and Aro both said in turn.

I bowed fully, smiling a little to myself when I felt Chelsea's spike of anxiety over my performance. I counted the prescribed two seconds in my head and stood tall again. "I receive your welcome, with gratitude and honor," I answered in a clear voice. "I also seek the honor of serving the Volturi Coven, and the vampire world at large, as a member of the Volturi Guard. If I am found worthy, I seek the privilege of bearing the cloak of this service."

"You have been found worthy," Caius intoned, turning to lift the cloak from the throne at his back. "Jasper, creation of Maria, do you swear to uphold the Laws and commands set forth by the Volturi Coven, with every effort and skill you possess?"

I nodded. "I swear it."

Now Aro stepped forward. "Jasper, creation of Maria, do you swear to represent to our immortal world this Coven and the Guard thereof with all the integrity and solemnity due your position?"

"I swear it."

"Jasper, creation of Maria," Marcus said, surprising me with his clear, youthful voice, "Do you swear to respect and obey your superiors and your masters, and to submit yourself to lawful discipline and instruction in their service?"

"I swear it."

"Guards," Caius said, raising his voice and looking past me to the others. "Do you swear to defend Jasper as your brother and fellow Guard in the service of the Volturi Coven and the vampire world, and to support and welcome him as he joins you in this service?"

They all answered as one. "We swear it."

Caius slid the cloak off of his arm. I retreated two steps and knelt, bowing my head as the Three stepped down and stood around me. They each took hold of a corner of the cloak and lifted it over and around me, arranging it on my shoulders.

"On this day we accept your oaths and your service," Caius pronounced. "May your life be forfeit if you break these oaths."

"May it be forfeit," I answered, and looked back up. I fastened the clasp of the cloak across my throat.

"You are bound to this service henceforth, until the day that you are released by death, or dismissed in friendship or disgrace. You have been given this duty in sacred trust, and thus you will honor it."

A wave of complex emotion stopped me from reciting my answer immediately. In the ranks behind me the usual curiosity was shifting into a deep sorrow, darkened by anger. But I also felt a living fear, and a strong, indignant pride throughout the room. I took the pride gladly, letting it burn its way into my heart. It was exactly what I had wanted when I made the decision to come to Italy. This ceremony wasn't just an undead mockery of human custom, any more than the Guard was a shadow of a "real" military institution. This _was_ the real thing, complete with regimental pride and a shared sorrow for fallen comrades. I turned my attention back to my new leaders, turning my pride outward for them in thanks.

"I will honor it."

"Rise," Marcus commanded. I stood and turned to face my new comrades... my fellow Guards. A few of them smiled in welcome, but I was more pleased as their collective mood shifted again, toward me specifically. There was still plenty of curiosity and disdain, but the overall feel was a little friendlier. It was more fulfilling than any applause could have been.

"Behold your brother," Aro told them grandly, "and welcome him as you have sworn."

"We behold our brother in welcome."

"Behold your brothers and sisters," Aro said to me, gesturing toward them all.

"I greet you, brothers and sisters," I recited, working as quickly as I could to spread my pride throughout the room. Only a few of them seemed to notice, but it was something. Chelsea gave me a small nod of approval.

That was it. The Guard began to disperse, though many of them made their way forward to greet me. I felt Chelsea tugging at my cloak, making me more presentable as they approached.

"Welcome, Jasper," Demetri said first. I inclined my head in respect, for it turned out he did outrank Felix, at least according to his cloak.

"This is Afton," Chelsea said warmly, once she was done fussing over me. A young, slender male I hadn't seen before stood at her side, and gave me a little bow and an even smaller smile. His cloak wasn't particularly dark.

"Pleased to meet you, Afton," I said, not knowing what else to say.

"Ambrose," said another male, offering his hand. He was the male who had been sulking against the wall in the training room. He seemed genuinely pleased to meet me, so I shook his hand firmly.

"Welcome, Jasper!" Amin put in, raising his hand in greeting as he turned to go.

"I'm still recovering from _your_ welcome," I called after him rudely, and he waved once more in cheerful dismissal. Marco and Carlo snickered to each other as they followed him out. Most of the Guards I had met before didn't bother to come greet me, but sent me a silent welcome or heartier congratulations as they left. Felix gave me a similar wave as he drew Demetri over into a corner to whisper about something, both of them glancing back at me. But I couldn't be bothered, because the next Guard to greet me was the most _beautiful_ creature I had ever laid eyes on. She had been one of the women up front earlier, wearing colorful clothing underneath a nondescript cloak. How had I not noticed her like this earlier? She was tall and slender, with just the right curves, wearing a complicated red dress that made my fingers itch to peel away her cloak, just so I could see more of it. And that was before I noticed her hair... golden and warm brown all at once, laying in wispy waves over her cloaked shoulders.

"Welcome to Volterra, Jasper," she said lightly, offering her hand and an alluring smile that made my mouth ache. A deeply-buried instinct stirred inside me, and without thinking I took her hand and bent to kiss it. I couldn't have spoken anyway; my throat had gone completely dry. Her _scent_...

"There, Chelsea," she said, making no effort to extract her hand. "I was right. A Southern gentleman, through and through."

I just stared down at her like an idiot, not sure if I _could_ let her hand go. I hadn't felt like this since... Galveston.

"That's enough, Heidi," Chelsea said in exasperation. "Turn it off."

Heidi laughed, her hand still resting in mine. I blinked, confused, and suddenly she seemed... less real, somehow. Or just as real as the rest of us, whereas a moment ago she had shone like... like something. She was still beautiful, by far the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, but she no longer exuded sexuality like a siren. _A siren_ , I thought with embarrassing amusement. I had never heard that one before. Even her scent was calming down, still a delicious sweetness, but no longer an intoxicating one. Not much, anyway. Still...

"All right, all right," Gustav growled, shoving my hand away from Heidi's. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it. A dangerous surge of jealousy gripped my throat and my muscles, but the spell was fading fast.

"I'm _very_ pleased to meet you," I told her frankly, and the remaining Guards around us laughed freely.

"Welcome to the Guard, Jasper," said a small but commanding voice, and I looked around for a second before finding the speaker, whose head barely made it up to my chest. It was the female half of the matched set. "I'm Jane," she said. It sounded like a warning.

"Hello, Jane," I replied, looking curiously over to the male.

"Alec," he said, watching me carefully. I nodded in greeting, not liking the feel of their attention. It was almost as though an electric tingle was running over my skin. Gifted, for sure. I might have guessed it even without the dark cloaks. Should I resist whatever they were doing to me, or let it slide? I decided to play it down, for now. This was an extraordinary day, and I wasn't about to ruin it like that. I smiled down at them both.

"And are you two...?"

"Twins," Jane answered. The tingling feeling disappeared.

"Really twins? In your human life, you mean?"

"That's right." She looked me over slowly, feeling a cold satisfaction. "I've heard you're gifted, Jasper. An empath?"

"That's right."

"Welcome to the Guard," she said again, turning abruptly to go. Her twin mirrored her movement. "Not very dark for a gifted inductee," she murmured to him, making no attempt to keep her voice down.


	14. Settling In

After the commotion and greetings had died down, Chelsea took her mate's hand. Afton bent down to listen as she whispered something in his ear, then planted a brief kiss on her cheek before he turned to go. His aura flickered with jealousy as he looked me over once more, but there was no threat.

"Where to now?" I asked Chelsea as she led me out into the corridor.

"Your quarters."

We exited the stairwell on the fourth level down. The hall was the usual cold, gray stone, illuminated by torchlight. "Who keeps these things lit?" I asked, reaching up to touch a sconce as we passed it.

"We all have our duties," Chelsea replied, coming to a stop as we reached one of the doors. A key appeared in her hand, which she offered to me. "Go on."

The lock and hinges were well oiled, allowing the door to swing open without a sound. I barely restrained the urge to let out a low whistle as I stepped into the room. I was reminded of a luxury hotel my regiment had visited once when we were invited to a military ball. There was a long, elaborately carved bureau stretched along an entire wall. It was crowned with a vase of fresh white lilies and a fancy gas lamp. The nearer wall held two bookshelves, already stocked, and a matched writing desk and chair. The far wall held an enormous fireplace, in which a fire was snapping merrily. A luxurious couch and an armchair crowded around it. I finally looked down and realized the stone floor was softened by a rug that stretched nearly to the walls. It was a work of art in itself, all swirls and designs and colors. Magnificent artwork of all sizes filled the walls.

"This is incredible," I confessed freely, and then I noticed another doorway tucked behind the farthest bookshelf. I stepped through into a smaller room, just as nicely appointed. There was a handsome wardrobe, a mirror that was taller than I was, a basin with water and a fluffy white towel, a little dressing table, more framed artwork, and...

"A bed?" I asked, turning back to Chelsea and quirking an eyebrow.

"We want our Guards to enjoy every comfort," she said, going over to the wardrobe. A smaller mirror was mounted on its left-hand door so that when she opened it, the two mirrors faced each other and created the curious image of a long line of Chelseas and wardrobes, stretching out to infinity. Inside was hung a neat little row of slacks and dress shirts, all white and gray and black. At the end of the bar hung two gray cloaks identical in color to the one on my back. Two pairs of black shoes, polished and ready, sat waiting in the floor beside a pair of black boots. Chelsea briefly opened the other door, giving me a glimpse of more odd little treasures before she closed it again.

"This is called a catalogue," she explained, holding out a floppy book and a pencil to me. "You are permitted to wear any combination of white, gray, and black, so you may look through here and circle anything you would like. She peered at me for a long moment. "I think gray suits you best, perhaps a shade or two darker than your cloak. And if there's anything else you would like to have here in your quarters, just let me know."

I took the catalogue and turned in a slow circle, taking in the sights and smells of my new home. I didn't know what I had expected; a corner in some kind of barracks, or maybe my own little cell with a bunk and a few hooks to hang things on. If this was what new recruits were given, what must Chelsea and Afton's quarters look like?

"This is incredible," I repeated dumbly, and she smiled. It was that smile, more than the room and all its fanciness, that settled a new warmth deep in my chest. She looked—she _felt_ —for all the world like a little vampire mother, so eager to see her newest duckling settling into the nest. She was genuinely happy to see me chosen and installed so comfortably. It was worlds away from the possessive pride Maria had showered me with in my first year whenever I had done well in training. This really was going to be my _home_.

"You mentioned duties," I said, laying the catalog down on the bed. "I'm eager to continue my training and begin whatever duties I'm to be assigned. What do I do first? Are there duty shifts? Who do I report to?"

Chelsea held up her hands, more pleased than ever. "There's no rush. You have some time to get settled in here. Someone will be by later today to show you around... Demetri, I think, or it might be Felix. He's the one you'll be receiving your assignments and schedule from, at least in terms of training and patrol, and when it comes time for your first mission. I'll have some other little odd jobs for you to do when you're not in training, and of course you'll be learning more languages. You may study in here from now on, if you wish."

"Yes, I'd like that. Thank you again, for everything."

"It's my pleasure, of course. I'll see you tomorrow morning, probably." She turned to go.

"Have a pleasant evening," I called after her. She paused with her hand on the door, giving me another of her warm smiles.

"Welcome home, Jasper."

.

.

.

It didn't take me long to "get settled." My personal possessions filled all of two pockets. I had a wad of Italian money taken from one of my recent victims, a half-spent book of matches, a pocket knife, some twine, a couple of frayed maps, and the picture I had taken from Steve's airplane. I doubted I'd have a use for any of those things again, except the cash, maybe. I wondered if we received any kind of pay? I would have laughed at the idea a week ago, but Volterra had so far been one surprise after another. At any rate, the things I pulled out of my pockets were unsightly compared to the rest of my posh quarters, so I opened one of the drawers in the bureau and put them away.

I spent the next couple of hours exploring my quarters. I lay on the bed and tried out the couch, the armchair, and the chair that went with the writing desk, deciding that I would prefer the latter, at least for studying. The fireplace was one of many unexpected luxuries, and I was grateful, but I didn't think I'd be using it. Fire was associated with death, in my book, and the memories that came with it. Most of the times I had stood before flames—no matter how peaceful the sound of their snapping—I had been the one throwing someone into it. I could practically smell the stench of burning immortal flesh as I stared uncomfortably into the flames. I decided to check out the contents of the bookshelves later, returning to the bedroom until the fire burned itself out.

I tried on a few of the clothes Chelsea had left me, and the shoes. Most of them were a pretty good fit, just a little tight in the shoulders and a little too short at the wrist. The slacks weren't exactly right either, though I couldn't decide how. I wasn't accustomed to wearing shoes, but as far as I could tell, those were all right. I didn't like the boots at all. I gladly tossed the army uniform into the trash can and chose a gray shirt and black pants. When I put on the cloak again, I turned toward the mirror, fiddling with the clasp at my neck and adjusting the folds so they fell from my shoulders in perfect symmetry. I held myself tall, examining my appearance in a real mirror for the first time in... well, a long while.

I liked what I saw. I already looked so different from the man who had scowled at the rags and bloodstains in his reflection just a couple of months ago. I drew closer to the mirror, reaching up to touch the scars that would remain visible no matter how tightly I drew the cloak around my neck. They set me apart from my fellow Guards, but there wasn't anything I could do about that. I wished I could. I wanted to change something about my appearance in order to signify this new life I was beginning today... to show how serious my devotion was.

I ran my fingers through my hair, frowning at the tangles that had already formed since the ceremony. Would it be possible to cut it? Maria had always cut the hair of her newborns as they lay changing, anytime their hair had been long enough for an opponent to grab. Once I had noticed her habit of doing so, I asked her why she hadn't cut mine.

"Because I like you this way," she had said simply, grinning in her malignant way as she curled her fingers through the tangles.

I gritted my teeth at the memory of her careless touch. Anything to distinguish my appearance from those days, especially now that Aro had seen those memories. Once I made a few friends in the Guard, or at least decided who I could trust not to prank me out of _all_ my hair, I'd see if a haircut was a possibility. In the meantime, maybe I could clean it up somehow. I opened the right-hand door of the wardrobe, digging through the odds and ends until I was rewarded with a comb. It took me a while and broke off half the teeth in the comb, but I got my hair shining and perfect in the end. But it still wasn't different enough...

I looked around the bedroom, then out in the front room until I noticed the leather covering the couch cushions. I tipped one of them up on its end and used my fingernail to slice a long strip of the leather away. It took a few tries and some contortions in front of the mirror, but I finally got my hair tied back in a low, neat ponytail that stayed in place. Much better.

I returned curiously to the wardrobe to see what else Chelsea had left for me. There was a measuring tape with a note attached:

_You'll find sizing charts in the catalog._

_-C._

There was a little basket full of underthings and socks, another comb, a hairbrush, a _toothbrush_ , and even a set of handkerchiefs. I shook my head in amusement, moving on to the next little basket. The smile faded from my lips when I saw the first item: a cigarette lighter.

This was an unexpected honor. It had taken several years for Maria to trust me enough to let me carry my own book of matches, and as far as I knew I was the only one of her creations she had _ever_ trusted with such a dangerous possession. Even Peter hadn't been permitted to carry matches or a lighter, though I had seen him sneak one into his pocket a time or two after feeding. It hadn't troubled me; paranoia was my creator's specialty, not mine. But it impressed me deeply to learn, once again, that things were different here in Volterra.

But how to carry it? On a whim I turned back the sides of my cloak, and sure enough, there were several pockets sewn into the lining. One of them was the exact shape and size as the lighter, so I slipped it into place. The key to my quarters fit easily into another pocket, and, just to please Chelsea, I folded one of the handkerchiefs and assigned it a pocket, too. I found a dozen other odds and ends in the wardrobe: pins, needles, and thread, a little can of something called "metholatum," shoe polish, some soap and other bath supplies, and some other things I couldn't even identify.

I wouldn't mind cleaning up, that was for sure. I even found a little bottle labeled "shampoo." I gave myself a thorough sponge bath and even washed my hair; the shampoo smelled like strawberries, which seemed an odd choice for a Guard, but I was still grateful. By the time I had finished, the water in the basin was a darker gray than my cloak.

By the time I had gotten back into my clothes, cloak, and shoes and had tied my damp hair back again, the fire in the front room had begun to die down. I began picking through the bookshelf to distract myself from the last flames. There were all sorts of books—though that was only a guess, seeing as how I couldn't read most of the titles. The bottom shelf was filled with seventeen thick volumes that appeared identical, except for the letters on their spines. _Encyclopaedia Britannica_. I briefly flipped through the "A" volume, impressed by the variety of information crammed onto its glossy, colorful pages and relieved to see something written in English. My attention caught on the picture of an alligator, a familiar animal, and I instantly became absorbed in a world full of interesting creatures, people, places, ideas, and events that despite my age, I knew very little about. Whoever had stocked my shelves must have known that learning Italian was only a small piece of the catching up I'd need to do.

When I reached the last page, I turned back to start over at the beginning. My nose told me that the fire was long dead now, but I couldn't be bothered to look up. Studying Italian had been a tedious chore, but this was... heavenly. I couldn't remember the last time—in either of my lives—when I'd had the leisure to just read and _learn_ for hours on end. I moved onto the "B" volume, finally letting myself slow down and think about what I was reading. I took in every detail of the labeled pictures and the charts, acquainting myself with everything from Bathsheba to Bulgaria.

"I've tried knocking," a voice erupted impatiently. I scrambled to my feet just as Demetri pushed his way in, looking annoyed.

"Sorry, sir," I said, quickly adjusting the folds of my cloak. "I was just absorbed in my reading."

"I can imagine," he said drily. "It must have been ages since you've had reason to crack open a book. Shall I leave you two alone?"

"It won't happen again, sir."

"I'll be glad to forget it, if you'll only dispense with the _sir_. Come with me, please. Aro asked me to show you around."

I followed him on his slow walk through the corridors, more focused on imitating the swish of his cloak when we turned each corner than his droning lecture on art and masonry in the Middle Ages. Demetri must be far older than Felix, if age had anything to do with the float-walk. He moved through stone halls with silent ease, looking more like a prince than a soldier. The gray stone might as well have been carpeted with rich tapestries and crusted with precious gems, for all the noble pride Demetri felt as he recited the natural history of each column, each iron-studded door. So far, my quarters were the only residence we had visited; it was mostly storage, empty rooms, and locked doors in my section. I thought we'd made one big square in our tour, but it was difficult to keep my bearings underground.

"I'm sure you can appreciate the reasons for having plenty of space between everyone's living quarters," Demetri said, turning down another abandoned corridor. "And Aro thought that with your particular gift, you might appreciate even more solitude."

"Yes, I'm grateful," I assured him. "But I'm still trying to figure out how to address my superiors. If we aren't to use _sir_ , is there no mark of rank? And do we not use _Master Aro_ and so on when referring to the leaders, or only when they're in the room, or what?"

Demetri drew a large ring of skeleton keys out of his clock, fumbling with the next door to unlock it. "You can't go wrong by keeping your mouth shut. There are times for more formality and times for less; you'll get the hang of it. _Demetri_ will be sufficient for me, thank you. Here we are; I thought you might want to see this particular room."

He gestured for me to enter first. I took one step into the room and promptly froze in gaping wonder; it was a library, but not like one I'd ever seen before. The bookshelves, crammed to overflowing with books and papers and scrolls, stretched up two floors, maybe three, and extended so far out that I was sure my living quarters were backed right up against it. My nagging thirst was forgotten, shoved aside to make room for the appetite that was whetted by the sight of so much _knowledge_ in one room. A few inches from my feet, the stone floor disappeared beneath a blood-colored carpet that stretched to infinity. The posh furniture, great tables and chairs and marble benches, made my living quarters look like a poorhouse. Enormous candles stood at attention, casting the book-covered walls with odd shadows. A grand fireplace stood ready and stocked with wood. On the far wall stood a matching grandfather clock, its pendulum swinging to and fro without a sound. Ladders leaned against the bookshelves at regular intervals, just waiting for someone to climb them.

"I had thought—" I stammered. "The library, upstairs—"

"Upstairs!" Demetri chuckled. "That is a front for the humans, and occasionally used for applicants, as you know. No, this is our main library, although there are others in the older halls below."

"Others!"

"Come," he ordered, heading out the door again. "You'll have plenty of time for study in the coming years. Besides, you wouldn't be able to read most of it yet."

The tour continued. Demetri showed me where some of my fellow Guards were bunked, their quarters dotting the first three levels along with mine. As we moved further down, the corridors we explored became more grand. Artwork in gilded frames hung heavy on the walls. The walkway widened further, some with painted walls or carpet, some with outlandish sculptures guarding the empty spaces.

"Jane and Alec's quarters," Demetri announced, gesturing toward a wide hall that was outfitted to look like a cross between a parlor and a ballroom.

"They share?"

"Have you ever met a pair of immortal twins before?" I shook my head. "They'd breathe the same air if they could. They share the common area there, with their own private rooms off either side. Now, this is a room you'll get to be very familiar with..."

We crossed an open area into the next corridor, entering another spacious room. This one seemed more utilitarian despite the usual artwork. Long tables filled the space, piled high with newspapers, magazines, books, and all sorts of little paper scraps. A fancy radio stood sentinel near the door. A desk and chair sat nearby.

"We call this the reading room," Demetri explained, crossing over to the nearest table. "As I'm sure you're aware, the Volturi work ceaselessly to protect our kind from the knowledge of humankind." He picked up a newspaper, but I couldn't read the gibberish on the front page. "In order to guard against that knowledge, we are charged with monitoring human communications. Periodicals, telegrams, novels, military orders, and so on. We have various sources in several corners of the world, but the newspapers generally prove the most effective means of catching what we need to. Though as you can see," he added, lifting his chin over toward the silent radio, "we must keep up with the times."

I picked up a random scrap of paper. Messy handwriting was scrawled across it, though it was so foreign I couldn't even tell if I was holding the paper the right way. "You read all the newspapers from all over the world, every day?"

Demetri sniffed, folding the newspaper and putting it down. "The process is streamlined by our various contacts, but there is still quite a lot of reading to do on our end. Most of us in the Guard have regular shifts in here. You'll be on the roster soon enough, along with your other duties."

"But what are you looking for? Reports of vampires?"

He laughed, heading out the door to continue the tour. "If we find reports of vampires, we will already have failed in our duty. We watch for the warning signs: serial killers, missing children, odd murder mysteries, certain patterns of destruction and arson, military orders to investigate certain abnormalities... signs that a newborn is on the loose, or that a dispute is erupting between rival covens, or some idiot has grown tired of living by the rules, that sort of thing."

"And when you find something?"

"Then we take care of it. Do you always ask this many questions?"

"I'm sorry, s... Demetri. I'm just trying to learn all I can. I'm well aware I have some... catching up to do."

I didn't see him smile since he was walking in front of me, but I felt it. "Quite all right, Jasper. We all have to start somewhere. Well, let's move on."

Heidi's quarters were hidden away behind another atrium-looking space filled with pretty things. Chelsea and Afton had their own section entirely. Demetri's emotions took an interesting turn when we passed it, though he felt so tumultuous I couldn't quite make it out. It all seemed to mush together into a bitter lump in his heart, though he continued his chatter without missing a beat.

"Renata's quarters," he announced just before the next stairwell, motioning to a closed door. "Now. For the older halls and more history lessons, if I haven't bored you to death by now."

"Dead already," I assured him, testing his mood to see if I had pushed too far. He just smiled absently and plunged into the darkness of the stairwell, taking the steps instead of jumping the way Chelsea liked to do. We went down another three levels—no, three and a half; we exited out the other side of the stairwell to enter a more primitive hallway... more of a tunnel, I supposed. It was packed earth on all sides, streaked with something white that looked like marble, but didn't.

"Alabaster," Demetri said, reaching up to touch a white vein that spread out above our heads. "The wealth of ancient Volterra. Hold the door open a moment."

I held the stairwell door, watching as Demetri took down one of the unlit torches that lined the first few feet of the tunnel. He drew a cigarette lighter out of his cloak, frowning when it failed to spark twice.

"Damn thing," he muttered, finally getting it working. The torch blazed with a steady flame.

The tunnel went on forever. I remembered the long corridor of stone that Felix had taken me down a few days ago, wondering if the two were parallel. But this one was much longer, or at least it felt like it. Here and there the earthen walls were dug out into rough shelves, many of which had white containers stored on them, intricately carved with little figures of men, animals, and angels.

"We call it the catacombs," Demetri said, breaking the silence at last. "A poor imitation of the subterranean adventure one finds down in Rome or over in Paris, I'm afraid, but it's home."

"I haven't gotten to the 'C' volume yet," I confessed. "What are catacombs?"

"Burial grounds. Some are little holes in the earth, but you'll find that many cities in the Old World have tunnels like this one. The smaller ones are ossuaries—bones," he said, pointing to one of the squarish containers, "and the bigger ones are caskets."

"Charming," I said under my breath.

"They've served other purposes here and there, but yes, this is a holy place. Just up here is the church..."

Our path bent upward into a wide earthen chamber. This one was fairly littered with ossuaries, some far more fancy than any we had seen yet. Demetri set the torch in a waiting sconce beside a massive wooden door, leading us up a rickety staircase.

More stairs, more halls, and we were suddenly outside. I blinked up at the sun, surprised to discover it was daytime at all. I had lost all sense of day and night since my arrival.

"St. Marcus' Church," Demetri announced, turning back to look at the grand structure we had just come out of. "We lived here in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. It was a thriving monastery in those days. Pilgrims of both species were always coming and going." His history lesson grew more interesting, hearkening back to a time when the Volturi were only one of several powerful covens of the world. I was surprised to learn that some of their old enemies were still alive today, though only because of the mercy of our leaders.

"They call themselves the Romanians now," he said, looking out into the northeast. "The ones who burned down the old castle."

"It seems unwise to let them live," I said. "Why didn't—"

"Stop there," Demetri said harshly. "Let me give you some friendly advice, Jasper. Volterra is your home, and we are all friends here... most of the time. But never let yourself forget that you serve the greatest lords to ever rule our kind. It is not your place to judge or even question that rule. It's imperative that you understand this."

"Yes, of course."

"In fact, that's why I've brought you out here today." He paused, motioning toward a stone bench that provided a spectacular view of the city below. I joined him on the bench, waiting as he prepared whatever it was he was going to say. He seemed more interested in watching the sun travel across the sky. When he finally turned to speak, the impassive mask was gone; he wore a generous smile.

"Now. Let us speak freely. I don't think it has escaped your notice that I was the one assigned to show you around, and not Felix."

I considered his mood, unsure of the correct response. "I'm still trying to sort out who reports to who."

"Whom," he corrected patiently. "You stand on the edge of a knife, Jasper, and I want to help you. Have you noticed how very _light_ your cloak is?"

"I expected nothing better. I just got here."

"Tenure has nothing to do with it," he scoffed. "Well, not entirely. All the Guards you've been training with this week... they are essential to our operation, but they aren't like you and me." He gave me a pointed look.

"You're gifted too? How?"

"You see, that's just the sort of childish curiosity that you'll need to overcome. But never mind; I said we would speak freely here. I am a tracker, if you must know."

I waited for the punchline, but there didn't seem to be one. Trackers were a dime a dozen where I came from. I had never thought to classify that skill as a _gift_ , but what did I know?

"The point is, there is a line that stands between the gifted and... the others. There are Guards and there are _Guards_. You seem to have fallen on the wrong side of that line, my friend, but not too far from it. I was chosen to show you around, not Felix. That means something."

"I didn't come with any particular ambition," I said. "It's true that I'm used to command, but I'm well aware of my circumstances. I know how fortunate I am to have been spared. At the very best, I think I would have been sent on my way if Aro hadn't spoken up for me."

"Yes... Aro." Demetri studied me for a moment. I thought he was feeling the faintest twinge of jealousy, but it was already gone. "With Aro on your side, you might cross that line someday. If that's what you wish, you must be careful not to associate with the lower Guards too closely. Never forget that you are gifted... that you are different. But have a care, Jasper. You've been given a light cloak to put you in your place, so it also wouldn't do to be disdainful of your current position. You must carry yourself with confidence and expectation, but humility as well. Patience is key; just stop short of complacency."

"If I knew what my rank was in the first place—"

"You're thinking like a human. Or worse, like those ragamuffin armies that you've sprouted from. We do not use such banal distinctions as _rank_ here in Volterra. The color of our cloaks has its meaning, but the hierarchy isn't a linear one. There isn't a chain of command so stagnant that it can be drawn on paper. It depends on the situation. And on which, if any, of the Three are involved. You'll—"

"—get the hang of it," I finished drily. Apparently, "speaking freely" was a relative term here in Volterra. Demetri answered with an aristocratic smile.

"Now," he said, pointing out into the distant valley, "Volterra itself. Over on that side of the horizon..."

An hour later, his lecture showed no sign of coming to an end. I couldn't care less which human faction had been in charge of the city in which era or how the rivers had changed over the years. The worst part was that even from so far away, I could easily see human movement in the walled city that lay at our feet. My thirst was wearing on me. If Demetri wasn't here, it would be so easy to sneak down into the city and feed on someone who didn't look too important. And what about the neighboring towns? Surely they weren't off limits.

My throat burned hotter as Demetri chattered on. It was a relief to finally be outside, and sitting still for hours on end was no challenge, but my muscles were cramped with the need to run and hunt.

"We keep a car here at the church," Demetri was saying. "There's another back at the castle, but we try not to be seen too often in the city if we can help it, even through a windshield. Are you all right, Jasper?"

I swallowed hard. "A little thirsty. I'm still adjusting." I looked away from the valley, pointedly ignoring the tiny humans in it. I focused instead on the odd feeling of having my hair tied back. The wind was strong up here on the hill, and the _whoosh_ against my ears was different without my shaggy tangles hanging over them.

Demetri slid to his feet. "Well, let's get you inside, then."

I stood as well, letting myself glance back down at the city again, then out to the furthest town I could see in the distance. I wondered if Demetri would take me out to get a midweek human, if I asked. He had to rank highly enough for that kind of leeway, didn't he? And for whatever reason, he'd seen fit to give me some "friendly advice," as mysterious as it was. Maybe he wouldn't mind doing me one more favor.

"Coming?" he called from the church door.

I almost spoke up, but instead I gritted my teeth and following him back inside. Aro had made it clear that they were done indulging my appetite; it wouldn't look good if I were to sneak around it, even if I had permission from a superior. And I would need to learn to school my thoughts as well as my words; Aro would see everything whenever he touched my hand again. I wondered if it would impress him more to defeat temptation, as I was doing now, or to avoid the tempting thoughts altogether.

Once we made it back under the city and into the regular corridors of the underground castle, Demetri took a different route back so I could see more rooms. There was another library, smaller and filled with maps, and a couple of rooms that were more for entertainment than anything else. The biggest one had table after table of half-completed jigsaw puzzles, another fancy radio with a crowd of empty chairs around it, and even a bunch of musical instruments and an artist's easel.

"When do I get my schedule?" I asked Demetri as we made our way to the training room.

"I'll handle that," Felix called out from the other side of the door.

We entered just in time to see Amin and Pavlo rush each other. We joined the Guards that stood over by the wall, watching their fight for a few minutes. When there was finally a lag in the action, Felix sauntered over, slinging his huge arm around my shoulders. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" he asked Demetri rudely. "Poor kid, you've probably talked his ear off by now. Leave him to me."

Demetri gave a delicate sigh and went back out into the hall, shooting me a meaningful look along the lines of _Remember what I told you_.

"So!" Felix shouted to the others, shoving me hard into the center of the room. "Pox has got his cloak after all."

The room went dead silent. Amin and Pavlo paused their sparring match. Everyone seemed to be looking to Felix for their cue, waiting to react until he did. But Felix seemed to be waiting for me to speak first. I stood there awkwardly in the center of the cavern for a moment, glancing around, and then I swirled my cloak off my shoulders and tossed it onto one of the hooks lining the wall in one smooth motion. I allowed myself one second of nervous relief that I had pulled it off, and then I turned back to Felix.

"What are we working on?" I asked him.

He finally grunted in approval. "Footwork. You and Zaki next. No hands allowed." The others crowded around to watch our fight as he finished his instructions. They seemed more relaxed now, and this time they shouted out encouragement and criticism to both of us. We both locked our hands behind our backs and circled for a moment. Zaki danced light on his feet, darting in and out of reach with a taunting grin. He used his height against me with big, sweeping kicks, determined to get me back for the other day. I did my best to keep him off balance, shoving him sideways with my full body weight whenever he was close enough

"You're too short, Jasper," Amin called out. "You'll never get him down that way. Focus on his knees—use those big angles against him."

"No, no!" Marco shouted. "Hit him from behind! Elbows!"

" _No elbows_!" Felix bellowed when I moved to take Marco's advice. "You're fighting without arms, and if you can't remember that, I'll take 'em off till you do!"

I locked my arms together even harder, tightening my grip around my forearms so I wouldn't be tempted to let go. We both feinted left at the same moment, hitting nothing but air. I landed a good kick in the back of Zaki's left knee, but it buckled just for a millisecond and he was fighting mad again. Finally we crashed together and fell in a tangle of legs, writhing furiously in the gravel to get the upper hand.

"Disengage, go for the head—!" Felix said, turning away from the fight to greet someone who was just walking in, but I didn't waste time looking. I _had_ to win this one. And I could, I was sure of it; I had run this same exercise with my newborns dozens of times. Zaki rolled away and up, but I followed through, finally getting a knee up into his chest. I slammed him back down, bringing up my other foot to force his head to turn away. I butted my head into his chin hard, pressing my teeth against his throat.

"Win!" Marco shrieked. "Jasper wins!"

Applause erupted through the cavern, followed by a lively argument about how Zaki could have stopped me. He wasn't angry; he accepted my offered hand and bounced back up to his seven-foot height with his grin still as wide as ever. "Good fight, Jasper, very good fight!"

"You too," I said with a nod, working to keep from smiling. Finally!

"He cheated," a voice said, so quiet I almost missed it.

"Who said that?" I demanded, looking around. It was the one who had just come in—the sort-of-pale one with the braids who had looked at me with hatred the other day. His buddy wasn't with him this time.

"I did," he said, lifting his chin in challenge. His upper lip twitched just a little, hinting at the teeth hidden beneath it.

"We haven't met," I said, working not to let my chest heave with fury. "Etienne or Santiago?"

"Santiago."

"Well, Santiago, I didn't cheat."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

After a split second of indecision, I stepped forward. "Guess I am."

"That's enough," Felix said, laying a warning hand on my shoulder. "Next pair."

Santiago held his ground, but he shivered in place, watching me with murder in his red eyes. His rage rolled off him in hot waves, making me itch to put him in his place... if I could. Not now. For all I knew, that was exactly what he wanted: to make me lose control in front of Felix. I turned my back to him to watch the next fight, pretending to ignore the sound of his spit hitting the back of my shirt. I forced a deep breath in and out my nose, holding myself in place. _Not. Now._

The foot-fights went on through the night. Felix took a turn himself, and he called out pointers now and then, but a good half of the time he hung back in the shadows, speaking in a whisper to someone or just watching. I worried at first that Santiago's attempt to undermine my victory had worked and was being talked about behind my back, but besides him, no one seemed to feel any different about me. Not much, anyway. The jovial atmosphere hadn't returned since he had ruined it.

I went three more times, losing two matches and winning one against Pavlo. He was a less gracious loser than Zaki, but he kept his mouth shut.

"That's it for tonight," Felix finally announced. We all went for our cloaks. "But before we go..." When I turned back to see what he wanted, he was looking straight at me with a devilish smirk. "Let's give Jasper our official welcome into the Volturi Guard."

They were too fast for me. Seven of them, at least, flashed over to surround me and grab my limbs. I struggled briefly in panic, but it was no use; I was still standing, but I was immobilized. Felix stepped up so that his face towered right over mine. I could feel dozens of fingers digging into the skin of my shoulders, my wrists, my hips. Felix tilted his head and beamed a friendly smile, and the fingers dug hard enough to break the skin with a sickening screech. Felix looked like he was about to say something, but he just snapped his fingers.

I barely had time to clamp my mouth shut before it came. All at once, the hands wrenched and tore. They were quick; I had to give them that. Both arms and both legs clattered to the ground before the scream tore out of my lungs. I held it in until they dropped me—what was left of me—to collapse onto the gravel. I kept it as quiet as I could.

Felix squatted down on his heels, leaning his face down to my level. "You'll do, Pox," he chuckled, patting my cheek before he got up to leave. "You'll do."


	15. Crest

**Hi readers! Thank you again for your patience with my slow updates. This is a short scene, but an important parallel to Tale of Years: 1950.**

**Just a heads up: I think I'm going to bump up the rating of this story to M the next time I post. I don't know if I really need it, but this story definitely has more violence and some darker themes than my usual fare.**

* * *

The pain was nothing I couldn't handle. A few deep breaths to reassure myself that I wasn't on fire, and I was able to open my eyes again. But it made my thirst rage, and being in five places at once was disorienting. I'd never lost all four limbs before. I tried several times to sit myself up—if that was even possible with nothing but a head and a torso—but the floor seemed to be everywhere, on every side. And something was wrong with my left leg. It felt like someone was still pulling at it, or maybe it was falling through the air. A few seconds later, I couldn't feel it at all anymore. I looked around the training room to see if I could find it, but the stone walls and floor smeared together into a throbbing gray cloud. I closed my eyes again, letting the pain and the burning thirst and the conflicting sensations sort themselves out a little more, and then I tried again. At least the other limbs were still here, twitching and twisting in their confusion.

After three more tries, I gave up on sitting. I lurched over with my shoulder, throwing myself into a roll, and began the long journey toward the nearest arm. The arm itself wasn't much help, no matter how much I willed the torn muscles to bring it closer. It just lay there flopping around, the fingers grabbing randomly at the gravel. Finally I was close enough to the arm that I could maneuver myself into lining up the two halves of my right shoulder side by side. But then I noticed that the ragged surface of the severed shoulder, dotted with wet venom and old blood, had a few pieces of gravel stuck to it. This, more than anything, boiled up a rage inside me at Felix and the others. I'd take any humiliating stunt they handed out, if it helped the Guards accept me, but they should have been more careful. The smallest grain of sand left inside a dismemberment could block the healing process, keeping the pain alive inside until the body's venom slowly dissolved it. I tried blowing the little chunks of gravel off the shoulder, and when that didn't work, I used my chin, my nose, my teeth, anything to wipe away the offending grit.

The first arm was the hardest, since I didn't have a hand to help me. Once I got the first one on and waited a bit for it to heal enough, I was able to prop myself up and get over to the other one a lot quicker. The leg took a while to fuse, but within an hour I was able to wobble up into standing. I hopped around the training room looking for my other leg, but it still felt far away. After a thorough search, I realized that the real prank was sending me on a treasure hunt for the last leg. Clever, but I was out of patience. I refused to go hopping through the corridors—with my luck, I'd almost certainly run into Caius looking like that.

My search through the corners of the room had turned up a few interesting items: some barrels, a few yards of cloth, even a broom. I couldn't imagine what these things had to do with training, but I took the broom gratefully and unscrewed the wad of bristles from the stick. I practiced limping around with my new crutch for a few minutes, only venturing out into the hallway once I was sure I wouldn't fall and give them something new to laugh at. I glanced toward the stairwell, thinking about the city full of humans within easy reach, but I almost laughed at the idea of hunting right now, bouncing through the city like some kind of undead killer frog.

I had to admit; playing hide and seek with my leg was an interesting exercise. I couldn't quite put my finger on how, but I could somehow feel that I knew which direction to go. I felt pulled toward it, in a sense. But that didn't help me know which floor to start on. I hopped up one flight of steps and tried that floor, but it didn't feel right. A few tries later, I hobbled down the length of the second floor, feeling closer to my goal every second. I could feel the leg itself moving now, kicking and trying to escape whatever hiding place it had been stashed it, and I thought I could feel someone's hand grab it. I didn't bother knocking on the door my search led me to; I just shoved it open and smirked at the six Guards whose glee I had felt from halfway down the hall. They greeted me with enthusiastic applause, even Santiago, who stood there holding my leg like it was an oversized trophy.

"Leg. Now," I demanded, trying to keep my voice light. He felt surprisingly free of the antagonism he'd been radiating earlier. He tossed the leg carelessly over to me. After a careful inspection of the damaged surface, I spun it around and fumbled with my torn pants to get it back into place. Once the familiar tingling of fusion began, I couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief. My comrades applauded and cheered again, all but Felix, who grinned and motioned me closer.

"Thought you'd never find it." He chuckled deep in his throat and shoved me into the nearest chair. I eased myself down into it, favoring my left hip.

"Your quarters?" I asked him. He nodded.

"Best room in the castle," Marco said, rolling off the high bed he had been perched on. He landed nimbly on his feet and bounced back up into the air, basketball in hand. He dunked it into a net fixed on the wall fifteen feet up. Besides the bed, there were at least ten chairs and small couches scattered around the spacious quarters, a radio, a pair of massive bookshelves, _two_ fireplaces, and a life-size statue of a Roman soldier that bore a striking resemblance to Felix. The walls were adorned with various weapons and maps instead of the usual artwork. A broad hallway led off into some other room or rooms. Everything was cleaner and more ornate than I would have expected from a soldier like Felix, except for some odd fist-shaped holes that dotted the stone walls.

I decided not to mention the gravel thing. Their good mood was contagious. Pavlo laced his hands together on his knees and began telling stories about the hazing and pranks that some of them had been subjected to. The others joined in with hilarious stories of their own. It turned out that Marco and Carlo were not brothers as I had first guessed, but cousins. The day before their induction, Felix had told them—with a straight face—that there was only one spot available and that they would have to fight to the death for it. Gustav's first assignment had been to clean the human kitchen and bathrooms in the streetside portion of the castle. He had spent hours bungling around with the cleaning supplies only to find that not only was a human already assigned to the gruesome task, but that that human was a feisty grandmother who didn't think twice about lecturing an enormous vampire with her finger right in his face. Felix didn't seem inclined to share any details about his own arrival, but Marco eagerly told me all about his newborn mishaps that had nearly exposed the whole operation.

The emotional subtext of the stories was intriguing. They all seemed at home here in Felix's quarters, sitting and standing around in various degrees of relaxation, laughing more on the outside than on the inside. Every now and then, when an unfamiliar name was mentioned, they'd fall quiet and the humor would dry up to be replaced by something darker. There were awkward pauses that seemed to indicate that there were things they weren't ready to tell me. But it never lasted long. I relaxed too and soaked up the jovial atmosphere.

"Now," Felix grunted later in the evening—or was it daytime? "Time to make you one of us." He motioned for me to come closer and rummaged around in the top drawer of a little bureau that sat between the chairs. He took out a quill pen, a bottle of ink, and what looked like a knife. But instead of silver metal, the knife gleamed with a familiar shimmer that danced in the firelight: vampire bone, I was sure of it.

"Come on, it won't hurt nearly as much as getting your legs torn off." He beckoned me closer again. "Roll your sleeve up."

"Tattoo," Marco explained when I didn't budge.

Another prank? But Marco rolled up his own sleeve, impatiently tearing the fabric of the cuff when it wouldn't slide up all the way. Sure enough, an intricate scar interrupted the alabaster smoothness of his upper arm. "It's the crest of the Volturi," he said, tracing a large capital "V." It was embellished with flourishes. A shield rested in the center of the emblem, divided into four quadrants. Two with a vulture and two with some kind of tree. Three other Guards rolled their sleeves up as well, proudly displaying identical tattoos. All their tattoos were somehow tinted, just a bit darker than the surrounding skin.

"Gladly," I told Felix. I sat on the floor beside his chair and began to roll up my own sleeve, but then I set off the laughter again when I decided to just pull down the entire thing—they'd conveniently torn it at the shoulder when they'd dismembered me. Felix prodded my bicep for a moment, looking with an expert eye for a good spot, then got to work with the pen and ink. His drawing seemed surprisingly sloppy for a vampire. He kept going over the same lines again and again, making them thicker than they needed to be. In some places, the ink welled up in globs.

"Can't Amin do it?" I said.

"My hand doesn't slip _too_ often," Felix said with a smirk, concentrating on the wing of the vulture he was drawing.

"Felix always does it," Pavlo said solemnly. "That way it looks exactly the same for all of us." I felt a surge of pride circle through the room, and this time I was proud to share in it.

Felix finished drawing and exchanged the quill for the knife. "Some of the ink gets trapped inside the skin as it heals," he explained. "That's why you have to draw it on so thick—most of it gets rejected by the venom." He stuck the knife into his mouth, slobbering plenty of venom onto it.

"I thought you were just a bad artist," I said coolly.

"Quiet," Felix grunted. I stilled completely, careful not to jump when the knife sliced through my skin. It hurt more than I would have expected, and not just from his venom. The knife was pretty dull. He moistened it with his spit several times, using only the very tip to carve the smaller details.

Maria had never branded her creations, but some of the others in the South did... _if_ Maria had been telling the truth. Half the leaders she had told me about had probably never even existed. I knew for a fact Lorenzo branded his soldiers, though, and so had El Serpiente's creator. He was probably continuing the tradition. Those brands were done with teeth or fingernails—nothing like this. And the ink was a brilliant idea.

Felix let the venom sit for a minute or two before extracting it. I watched in fascination as the skin healed into its new distorted shape, sending most of the ink dripping down my arm in glistening rivulets. Amin disappeared into the other room and came back with two towels, offering one to me and one to Felix. In less than five minutes, I had my tattoo. The raised gray lines were perfect, thinner than I would have thought the knife capable of.

After another round of congratulations, I headed back to my quarters to change into some clothes that weren't torn apart. I lingered in front of the mirror before putting on my shirt, running my fingers over the lines of the Volturi crest that would forever mark me as a soldier of the only _real_ legitimate military in the vampire world. My heart burned with pride and near-disbelief at how far I had come in such a short time. If only Peter could see me now. I wondered what he would think.

My attention was suddenly drawn away from the mirror when I heard an unexpectedly glorious sound: the pumping of a human heart. A second later, someone rapped at my door. I finished dressing in a flash and opened the door, steeling myself for the scent that filled the hallway.

"A gift from Caius," Marco said grudgingly, holding out the squirming human to me. I couldn't believe it. I muttered something about gratitude and pulled the human into my quarters, slamming the door behind me to spare my new comrade the embarrassing sight of my frenzy.


	16. Set Free

My duties began the next day. Felix explained that I wouldn't be allowed to leave the castle without supervision for quite some time, but that I would be allowed to join the city patrols soon enough. In the meantime, my days were to be a mix of menial chores, language study, combat training, and taking shifts in the reading room. I wasn't given much free time, but Felix promised that would change eventually.

"You're to be my apprentice here in the reading room," Demetri told me as we sat down with a teetering stack of newspapers. "You and I will cover all the major English-speaking sources for now, since you haven't yet gained proficiency in other languages. You'll be able to tell which parts of the newspaper are important to read."

In addition to the newspapers, there were wired military communications to decode, radio broadcasts to listen to, newly published books to read, and even handwritten notes like the one I had seen before. "We have contacts posted around the world at strategic points," Demetri explained. "Most of them aren't members of the Guard"— he paused, feeling uncertain for a moment—"but they have committed themselves to staying in a particular region and relaying any information that might be concerning."

I thought about that for a minute. "Is there one of these... contacts posted in Central America?"

"Certainly."

"Then why..." I trailed off, nodding in reluctant acknowledgement of Demetri's warning look. I got to work instead, flipping through a month-old copy of the New York Times to see what there was to see. It didn't seem efficient to be so many days behind, but I supposed that couldn't be helped. I was just relieved to be in the reading room instead of the training room—most of my dismemberment wounds had fully healed by now, but my left hip was taking its time. More than once I found myself rubbing the sore muscles while I read.

The newspaper was filled with chatter about the war—it all felt so far away now. It looked like America was jumping in with both feet now that it had finally decided to do so. I wondered if the fighting would ever come near Volterra. Demetri said he didn't think so, but that we would be prepared if it did.

Once I made it through the first pile of newspapers, Demetri went over the information with me, making sure I knew what to look for. Next we turned on the radio and listened to a short-wave broadcast coming from London.

"They're so focused on the war right now that we won't hear much civilian news," he explained. "We'll need to rely more heavily on newspapers and our contacts for that."

"Have you noticed an increase in vampire crime since the war began?" I asked.

"Yes, a little. There are two great dangers that accompany human wars. Territories tend to shift with the movement of troops. The border disputes can get ugly sometimes."

"And the second?"

"Accidental creations. There are a lot of vampires who get careless when there's so much blood for the taking in one place. They'll feed and feed until they are engorged. They drop the last human and move on without bothering to make sure it's dead. Sometimes, the human is left with enough blood to survive the transformation. This newborn wakes up alone and afraid. With no one to instruct them, they run wild. A savage. Those kinds of newborns are possibly the most severe threat to the security of our secret."

Not all of them, I thought, remembering Heinrich. Still, I was disgusted at such carelessness. Maria would never have dreamed of taking such a risk. She had been meticulous in her commitment to covering our tracks, and that included neutralizing any possible liabilities. Not that we would have ever let blood go to waste like that in the first place—there were always mouths to feed.

I chuckled to myself, turning my attention back to the radio. Imagine holding Maria up as a paragon of responsibility.

There was some excitement near the end of our shift. Amin suddenly stood up from his seat, still reading the newspaper that was clutched in his fingers. "Demetri, here," he said. "Look at this."

Demetri read the crumpled paper for two seconds and abruptly left the room, Amin following hot on his heels. I crossed the room and picked up the newspaper he had dropped, but it wasn't in English or Italian. "Can you read this?" I asked Carlo, who was sitting nearby.

He shook his head. "That's not one of my languages. They'll tell us what's going on eventually."

I was left to finish the pile of newspapers alone. I didn't see anything that hinted at the kind of trouble Demetri had described, but I refolded everything and left it in a neat pile for him to check later.

"Anything else in English I can work on?" I asked Carlo.

"Not today."

I went in search of Chelsea. I was accustomed to living in the open air, to following my nose; it was frustrating to have such a hard time finding someone with all our scents blending together in the halls. I finally found her in the music room. She was tuning the strings of a strange-looking instrument. I watched her from the hallway for a moment, breathing in her contentment. She didn't seem to have a care in the world.

"Come in, Jasper," she murmured without looking up.

"I'm done in the reading room. Amin found something and Demetri had to leave."

"Found what?"

I shrugged. "Something in one of the newspapers. I couldn't read it."

Chelsea laid aside her instrument and rose smoothly to her feet. "I'll find out what's going on. You can move on to the torches now."

"All right."

I made my way down to the storeroom, absently rubbing my left thigh as I walked. One of my duties, at least here in the beginning, would be to keep the hall torches burning. There were over a hundred of them—Felix had given me a detailed map of all the halls on each floor with every single torch marked on it, at least the halls I was allowed in. I was well aware the maps weren't complete, and that I was expected to keep my feet within the pencil lines. I was getting the hang of keeping my mouth shut.

I felt like a janitor who had gotten sucked back into the middle ages, pushing my squeaky cart around the stone halls. Every twelve hours, each torch had to be snuffed out with a long pole that had a kind of metal cup on the end. Then I had to take the torch down from its sconce, take out the old wick, pour new oil down into the reservoir, thread a new wick down into the fuel, get the torch back up into the sconce, and light it.

The wicks were soaked with oil beforehand, making it a messy and downright dangerous job. The thought occurred to me that it would be safer without my cloak on—or a shirt, for that matter—but I didn't think my new masters would appreciate that tactic. At least my hair was tied back out of the way. I worked slowly the first few times, taking care not to let too much oil get on my fingers. Once I got the hang of it, I was able to speed things up a little.

The real challenge was refilling the torches in the training room. Some of them were so high up that the only way to reach them was to jump. I shot up and took the torch out easily enough so I could do the refilling on the ground, but I didn't fancy flying upwards through the air with a burning torch. No matter how much I thought I had gotten the oil off my hands and the cuffs of my shirt, the lingering smell told me it wasn't a good idea. I kept the torch unlit and put it back up that way. After a few tries of jump-ignite-light, I finally succeeded. Was this another test, another prank? See if the new guy can make it through his first day without setting his hair on fire?

On the third torch, I tried something different. I leapt up a couple of times and carefully tested the metal of the sconce that held the torch, trying to see if it might support my body weight. It held fast, so this time I just jumped up with all the supplies, hooked one wrist over the neck of the sconce, and took care of everything with the other hand. But then I thought I heard a protesting creak coming from the wall, just as I let myself down.

When I met Chelsea later on for language study, I thought about asking her what the secret was for relighting the torches in the training room, but decided I'd like to keep working at it on my own.

"There's been a breach in India," she told me when we were putting away our books. "Caius has taken a team to investigate. There will be no training until they return, so you'll have some extra free time."

"I'll use it to study," I promised her. "Any guess when I'll be allowed to go?"

"Patience, Jasper," she said with a warm smile.

"Right."

.

.

.

I was well aware that I shouldn't expect any more special "gifts" from Aro, and Caius was gone now, and I doubted whether Marcus had spared me a thought since my cloaking ceremony. Still, as the next couple days wore on and my thirst worked itself up to an inferno, I found myself listening intently, hoping against hope that I'd hear the thumping of a human heart working its way toward my door. Maybe some of the higher-up Guards were allowed to hand out gifts, too. But no such luck.

By Friday afternoon, I couldn't focus on reading anymore. I was barely able to get my torch duty done that evening; the rest of the time I was balled up in my armchair with my arms wrapped around my knees, trying not to think about blood. About the _thousands_ of humans going about their business just a few hundred feet from where I sat.

Tomorrow at noon I would feed with the others for the first time, and that wasn't a comfort. It was worry, as much as thirst, that had me more and more agitated as the long night wore on. How was I going to manage feeding in a group without losing my mind? I couldn't mess this up, not now. I was just relieved that Caius, Felix, and Demetri were out of town. I would be feeding like this from now on, and I just needed to face it.

But when the morning came, I was still a nervous wreck. I still had to wait until noon. When the clock on my mantle reached eleven, I gritted my teeth and mechanically went about my torch duty, keeping an eye on my new wristwatch the whole time, trying not to rush and get even more oil all over me. I rushed back to my quarters to wash, just in time. When I swept back out into the hall, buttoning my last shirtsleeve, Marco and Carlo were just turning the corner on the way to the Dining Room.

"First time?" Carlo said when I caught up to them.

"Yeah."

They both clapped me hard on the back, nearly making me stumble. "You haven't lived!" Marco said eagerly. "Guests are sometimes allowed to join in, but only those of us in the Guard have it all the time. You get two every time, sometimes _three_ if Heidi has a big catch or some of us are out, and you don't have to scramble for your prey at all—there's no rush, no one takes more than their share!"

"Great," I muttered, doing the math in my head. Just great.

When we reached the dining room, there was a little yellow paper stuck on the door. It had a number "3" written on it.

"What'd I say, Jasper!" Marco said in a rushed whisper as we entered. "Three today!"

Fantastic.

Nothing happened for a while. Guards were still trickling in. Aro was the last to enter, accompanied by two female vampires I hadn't seen before. They wore no robes at all, and they both had that strange, papery-looking skin like Aro and Marcus, though the effect wasn't as noticeable—they were so beautiful it was hard to notice anything else. Aro carried the shorter one's hand on his own. His mate, then? Strange that I hadn't heard of her before now. And what about the other one? She was tall and intimidating, glancing around at the others with an imperious condescension that reminded me strikingly of Caius. Her eyes landed on me, briefly, and moved on.

I flicked my cloak off my shoulder when I saw the others doing it. The walls were lined with pegs here just like the training room, and I hung mine near the door we'd come in... just in case I would need to make a quick departure.

We waited in silence. My thirst burned on, flickering even higher so close to everyone else's. Thirst wasn't an emotion, not really, but it had an unmistakable emotional subtext. At least here, in a room full of mature vampires, that subtext was significantly less desperate.

We heard Heidi's high, clear voice before we could hear the humans. It sounded like she was giving them a tour of the castle, or at least of the facade, the halls meant for human company. I could hear the drumming of their heartbeats now... they all blended together in my thirsty imagination, one huge, hammering pulse vibrating in my own chest. _Come on, come on..._

"And just in here, it is said, the ancient vampires held court," Heidi was saying on the other side of the closed door. Watch your head, it's a low ceiling in this one part..."

The door on the far wall finally opened. The first human faces appeared, and it was all I could do to keep still. I'd need to wait and see what the procedure was, especially for those of us with the lighter cloaks. A couple of the humans laughed out loud when they saw us. Others began to chatter amongst themselves about the authenticity of the tour. Someone snapped a picture with their camera. In the very back of the crowd, a couple of more perceptive humans were starting to edge back toward the hall.

"Welcome to Volterra!" Aro said in Italian with theatrical over-pronunciation. He spread his arms in welcome. Heidi closed the door behind her.

"Come on, Jasper," Carlo said gleefully. Aro officially welcoming the humans had apparently been the signal; several Guards rushed forward. I felt a hand shoving me forward, as well. I would need to be quick so I could finish and deal with it while the others were distracted by their own prey. That one there in the brown jacket smelled good...

And then it hit. It was far, far worse than I had feared. As the first humans were snatched up and the carnage began, the crowd of human emotion tanked. For a second there, it was just a chilling numbness, the pure thrill of shock. But by the time the screams began, it had sunk fast into a churning mass of heart-splitting _terror_. The Guards' excitement didn't even put a dent in it. Human fear was everywhere, it was everything. Nothing else existed but the sea of fear sucking me downward. So much of it crammed in the tiny room, so much of it shooting through me, so much that I couldn't even try to fight it. I had barely had my teeth in my prey's neck for two seconds before we both tumbled to the floor in paralyzed agony. I shoved him blindly aside, blood and all. The next moment I was shivering, jammed up against the wall I had managed to crawl to. I knew this would ruin everything, but I couldn't help it. I had _never_ felt so terrified, not since my own transformation. I just needed it all to _stop_!

It didn't take long for the room to go quiet, for the haze of fear to dissipate. At least it didn't seem long. When I was finally able to draw a breath and open my eyes, most of the others were finished feeding, slowly putting on their cloaks and staring down at me. I was still wadded up in the corner.

And it was even worse than that. My prey lay on the stone floor next to me, broken and shivering in his own unique torment. I recognized the early signs of transformation, and from the whispers in the crowd, so did everyone else. I kicked my foot out once, hard, and put him out of his misery. If only my embarrassment were so easy to clean up. I slowly, reluctantly looked up into Aro's eyes. He stood frozen on the other side of the room, and yet his disappointment was still so palpable I could taste the bitterness on my tongue. I looked down again, even more deeply ashamed. I let my head fall back against the stone wall and shut my eyes again.

"Well," he said, ending the awkward silence. "I am sure you all have other matters to attend to. Jane, Alec, you will return in several minutes to clean up."

The others filed out as quickly as they could. Carlo sent me a sympathetic glance on his way out. Everyone else made a point of not looking at me again. Aro whispered something to the ladies that had come in with him, and they departed. Marcus had already gone. Gustav was the only Guard left. He clutched a whimpering human under each arm. Their fear soured the air from across the room, a mere annoyance compared to before.

Aro slowly approached, stepping gingerly around a couple of the corpses. He held his hands together as he walked, tapping his fingertips against each other in thoughtful meditation. "I did not think it would be that... bad," he said frankly.

I let out my breath slowly, then finally gathered my wits enough to stand up and smooth out my rumpled cloak. "Neither did I," I admitted. "That won't happen again, Master."

Aro pressed his lips into a thin line of severe disappointment. His sadness filled the room. "No, Jasper," he said. "It most certainly will not happen again."

He looked down at the human lying crumpled at my feet and left the room without another word. Gustav followed, carelessly flinging the two humans toward me on his way out.

"Too bad," he said under his breath, and shut the door.

I stood there for a minute, still unable to believe how badly the whole thing had gone, how eternally _sick_ I was of this foul curse of a gift, how thoroughly I had ruined my chances of advancement now—if I wasn't about to be thrown out in the first place. I stood there, chest heaving, unable to believe how close I had come to thinking that this whole thing was really going to work out. Wondering what I was supposed to _do_ with myself after this.

And then I turned around and poured out my rage on the two poor wretches who had the misfortune to see me coming.

.

.

.

I went straight to my quarters after feeding and stayed there. I knew I would be summoned any minute. I couldn't decide which was worse—would they take my cloak and throw me out? Or would I be staying out of pity, the laughingstock of Volterra, taking care of torches and laundry for the rest of eternity? They would never take me out on a mission after this, and the worst part was that I couldn't even blame them.

I cleaned up quickly, not wanting to be called with blood still on my shirt. I was just lucky to have been truly alone when I had finally fed; I had already been a wreck beforehand, and my two humans had had plenty of time to see what was coming, unlike the others. To say that I had suffered their dying emotions was putting it too mildly. And to top it all off, they had just had enough time to cry out their love to each other; they had been a young couple, probably touring Europe on their honeymoon or something heart-wrenching like that. Exactly the sort of prey I would have felt good about leaving alive. They were the last two I would have picked.

I scrubbed at the stains harder and harder until the shirt tore to pieces in my hands and I threw the wet, mangled fabric onto the floor. I dressed again, pulling my hair back into its neat ponytail. I liked the new style, I decided miserably as I straightened my cloak in the mirror. Even if I got kicked out, I'd keep it. It made me look neat, put together, in control. It made me look the opposite of how I felt right now.

I wondered, not for the first time, if it would always be this way for me. If I would always be at the mercy of my prey, always being pulled back and forth with the tide of whatever emotions were nearby. I had been a vampire for nearly eighty years. It felt like forever—but now, surrounded by ancients, it sounded young. Would it ever get easier to distance myself from the emotional flood, or would I be treading water in it for the rest of eternity? Maria had mentioned something once about vampires growing slowly in advanced age—stronger senses, stronger muscles, stronger gifts in the gifted. It had been her explanation for why the Volturi were so powerful, so feared.

In what way might my gift "grow" in the centuries to come? Would it get worse? Or would I somehow learn to separate myself from the emotional world around me, able to wield it with immunity? Imagine someday being able to actually _enjoy_ feeding like every other vampire on the planet, I thought bitterly.

But none of that mattered right now. I sat upright, tense, on one end of the long couch, staring at the cold ashes in the fireplace, waiting. The clock on the mantle grew louder. I could hear the rubbing, scraping friction between the minute hand and the hour hand. I grew more and more agitated with each passing hour.

Finally, I had to go out and do the torches. I dispensed with my duty quickly and returned back to my quarters to wait again. Another hour passed, and another. I was beginning to wonder if Aro might actually be willing to forget the whole thing ever happened. The next minute I was hoping against hope that he _would_ deal with it, and not leave it to Caius when he returned. That, I knew, would be worse, whatever the outcome.

Finally, a knock. I rose and opened the door, nodding in respect to Aro.

"You seem no worse for wear, young Jasper," he said politely.

"I recover quickly," I told him, then, "Master."

I was still getting the hang of that one.

Aro peeked around my shoulder at the arrangements of my quarters. I waited awkwardly, then followed him down the hall when he moved away. Keep your mouth shut, I warned myself.

"I have been reconsidering your situation," Aro began, and I winced, relieved that he could not see my face as we walked. His emotions were difficult to read. His disappointment was still paramount, but it was more complex. Curiosity, I realized, was boiling up by the minute.

"I am sure I need not explain, young Jasper, that your display earlier today was unacceptable," he went on. "That such behavior is totally unsuitable for one in the Guard." He waited.

"Yes, Master," I said uneasily.

"We will have to part ways," he said with finality. He stopped walking and turned to face me. "Unless a solution can be found."

I stopped short. "A solution?"

"Oh, there are any number of ways to get around it," he said carelessly, waving his hand in the air. He began walking again, briskly, heading for the stairwell. I kept up, doing my best to match his smooth stride. "We could save your meal for you, as we ended up doing today, and you could feed after the others. We could divert them, allow you to feed privately in another area. We could cater your meals directly to your rooms—room service, ha!" I could practically feel his laughter bubbling up in my own throat; he was enjoying himself immensely all of a sudden. Odd, very odd indeed.

"But in all seriousness, young Jasper, I am sure you see the difficulty. It is not meet to favor one above the others so, especially one so young and new, so..." He hesitated. "Well, after today, it would almost be seen as a reward for your peculiar display. Do you understand my meaning?"

"Not quite, Master."

"Of course, of course. I forget how new all of this is to you. You see, there are so many of us here who live in harmony... we all have our duty to one another. How can I be seen to let you feed alone every week when it is a reward rarely bestowed, even on our dearest, eldest friends? I do not withhold it from harshness—would that I could indulge my children in every comfort! But our little tradition of dining together is an honor, one that is renowned and envied throughout the wide world. It is your great privilege, Jasper, to have been given a place at that table. Many of our Guards do hunt out in the world when they are on a journey with Caius, or on some other assignment. For many, the thrill of the hunt is a unique joy, one they look forward to, and are sometimes rewarded with on special occasions. But that does not mean they spurn our gatherings when they are at home. Now do you understand?"

"So... you can't let me feed or hunt alone because it wouldn't look good."

"Precisely. But, as I said, I may have found another solution... here we are..."

We had come down to the floor that led to the catacombs. Aro waited while I took down one of the torches and lit it, brightening the white alabaster streaks all along the tunnel walls. He gestured for me to lead the way with the light. We walked the length of the tunnel in dramatic silence. He really liked to draw these things out, didn't he?

The ossuaries and caskets filed by, one by one. Finally our path tipped upward and we exited the tunnel. We left the torch in a sconce and passed through the church out into the courtyard, stepping out into the fresh afternoon air of the countryside

"I wonder if he was able to... ah, yes!" Aro's curiosity burned brighter. "This way, my friend."

He took me part of the way up a little hill. The trees were just beginning to thicken when we came to an old worn-out shed. My ears perked up when I heard a scuffling sound inside.

"Your dinner is inside," Aro said, gesturing toward the shed with a flourish.

I eagerly closed the distance. I'd be able to control myself with Aro looking on, now that my thirst was sated; I was sure of it. But as soon as I opened the door, a mangy wolf rushed out past my legs, not a human. It whimpered at my scent and darted off toward the trees.

"Oh, catch it!" Aro commanded. I ran to obey, easily scooping the animal up in one arm.

"I don't understand, Master," I told him, wrestling to keep the animal still in my arms. It wiggled and yelped in protest, and it had already gotten its front paws tangled in my cloak.

"Just try it," Aro said with a hint of impatience.

I eyed him incredulously; a prank, from one of the Three? But an order was an order. Feeling ridiculous, I brought the furry neck up to my teeth. It was a messy business, and when the bitter blood touched my tongue I nearly put the thing down. Disgusting. But Aro was still looking on eagerly. Just to please him, I kept on. After getting a good bit of the blood down my neck—and there went another shirt, ruined—I was able to get down through the fur to the artery. I nearly gagged, but I did it. I drank and drank until there was nothing left. I dropped the empty wolf and, unable to stop myself, I spat out the last mouthful instead of swallowing it. Ugh!

Aro clapped his hands, delighted with himself. "Marvelous. How was it?"

"Awful." I dragged my shirtsleeve across my face to clean it.

"Yes, of course it is. I have tried it before. Ghastly. But I think you will find that it is sufficient. Oh, let me see!" He reached for my hand. I made sure there was no blood first, then complied. "Ah!" he said, even more pleased. "Isn't that better?"

It finally dawned on me, what he was doing. "Wait. Are you saying that this is the solution? _Animal_ blood?"

"Exactly! I know it is a poor substitute, Jasper, but it is a substitute." He gave me a strange look. "For the first time in your long life, Jasper, you have fed—and been satisfied—without emotional pain."

He was right, I realized suddenly. The taste was so poor, I hadn't even thought of it as really feeding. More like pretending. But I _had_ just fed, and I had felt nothing at all. There was no human brain, no human heart here to hurt me. The residual burn lay in my throat as usual, but it was noticeably quieter than before I had had the wolf. My stomach felt pleasantly full.

"You're right," I said, looking doubtfully down at the carcass, "but surely you don't mean I'll be feeding like this all the time? Surely it doesn't... work?"

Aro smiled indulgently. "But it does. I have reason to believe that you will be able to go years, decades without needing human blood. We will consider it an experiment for now, but I think this may solve your little problem for good."

The shock of it rocked through me. I didn't need to hunt humans at _all_? I didn't have to suffer every time I fed? Something rebellious welled up inside me at the thought of not having real blood, but the truth of this moment drowned it out. I stared at my master with new eyes, unable to believe the gift he had just given me. He had set me free!


	17. Under the Knife

I followed Aro back through the tunnels in dazed silence. I still couldn't believe it. _Animals._ To live off their blood—to even try it—would never have occurred to me, and yet it was so simple. Blood was blood, wasn't it?

A clamor of defiance burned in my throat at the memory of the awful taste, but I shoved it down, distracted, sifting through my memories. I remembered the way various animals had shied away from me over the years, particularly the time I had tried to ride a horse again. I had wondered at the horse's reaction at the time, unsure why it was so afraid of me when I wasn't one of its natural predators. In the end, I had chalked it up to my unfamiliar scent, but now I wasn't so sure. We vampires had some very animalistic traits, after all. An older memory surfaced at that thought, blurry and human: some debate going on about animals and humans being related. The theory of evolution and its accompanying scandal. Regardless of where any of us came from, in the end, were vampires somewhere between animals and people? Did that mean that animal blood made just as much sense as human blood?

"Is something the matter?" Aro asked, turning around to see why I wasn't keeping up.

"Far from it, Master," I said, quickening my pace. I tried to think of something elegant to say, any words that would express the profound gratitude I felt, and not just for this new possibility. I was well aware of how many special accommodations I had been given since my arrival in Volterra, and who it was that had given me chance after chance. In the end I simply offered him my hand again, which he took.

"Ah," he said with a fond smile. "It brings me happiness, my young friend, to free you from your suffering. Truly. And I share your curiosity about our origins, our... classification, if you will."

"I wondered if you knew something," I said. "considering how old you are." I bit my lip, sure that wasn't the proper way to speak. "I mean..."

Aro laughed freely. "Not quite that ancient! A mere three thousand years, give or take an epoch. There are some walking this earth today who are even older. And many more ancient ones, alas, who walk it no longer. You mustn't feel ashamed at your failure to solve your little problem on your own, Jasper. Your short life has been a very small, sheltered one, and I am pleased to open our world to you. You will find Volterra to be a center for arts and culture and knowledge, as well as our home and our center of operations. You will hear the old songs and tales in time, and then you may believe what you will about our beginnings."

I nodded dumbly, still stuck on the idea of someone being three _thousand_ years old. I had assumed as much, but I still couldn't wrap my head around it. I opened the door at the end of the tunnel when we reached it, waiting for Aro to pass through before I extinguished the torch and put it back into place.

"But to answer your question," Aro went on, "No. Feeding on animals is not at all normal for our kind. Your fellow Guards will no doubt see it more as a punishment than anything else. I see this experiment as a medical diet of sorts; there are humans who must subsist on special foods, so perhaps this is no different. There are physicians among our kind, after all, and I cannot claim expertise. I cannot even promise this experiment will succeed, though it must be tried."

"It will succeed," I assured him. "I swear it."

.

.

.

I found it easier to focus on my Italian lessons almost at once, and I even ran through the menial chores I had been assigned with renewed energy. I still couldn't believe it. _I didn't have to kill anymore_.

It wasn't just the incredible relief at the thought of never suffering my victims' horror again. That in and of itself seemed almost too good to be true—and maybe it was. Maybe there really was no way for me to enjoy the hunt like other vampires, what with the horrid taste of animal blood on one hand and emotional pain in the other. If that was as good a trade-off as I could hope for, I'd take it and be grateful. And orders were orders. It wasn't just that. It was the revolutionary idea of not having to _be_ a killer anymore.

I wasn't under any delusion that I would _never_ kill again; I couldn't fathom the prospect of not having one single human in the coming months and years. Surely that wasn't what Aro had in mind. And once I had earned the trust of my superiors, I fully expected to take part in battles and executions. Hopefully with muscle around like Felix and Gustav, I might not have to face the latter too often, but I was here to be a soldier. I would fight when the time came. I would kill when I was ordered to kill. But Volterra was a different world than the cycle of dead-end violence I had spent the past eighty years surviving. Here, I could expect to see the same faces a century down the road. Every one of us in the Guard was valued, a trusted member of a team. I could let myself form attachments—maybe even friendships—because I didn't need to fear that I'd soon be ordered to turn around and slaughter my fellow soldiers. It was a freedom I'd never allowed myself before, not even with Peter. Even with the trust we'd forged over our years of working together and fighting back to back, I'd always held him at arms' length, knowing that the day might come when I would have to end him myself for one reason or another. I didn't have to do that here.

But even when Peter had freed me from that dog-eat-dog world, I was still a monster. My remaining victims were only humans, but I still didn't _enjoy_ being the one to end lives, even short and fragile ones. What was it Charlotte had said when she had explained why they fed less often now?

_I don't like being a monster. It's quite nice to be able to be able to go a few days without killing. It helps us forget, for a while, what we are. To just be ourselves..._

That was it. I hadn't understood at the time. After all, what "self" did I have left other than _what_ I was? What I had become, and what I had done? But now that I could strip away all the murder and the betrayal and even the monstrosity of my appetite, Aro was giving me the unexpected chance to see _who_ I was. And... I didn't know the answer to that question. Not yet. To see myself as anything besides a monster was enough for now.

When my chores around the castle were finally done—Chelsea had added a couple of extra odd jobs since several others were away—I went back to my quarters to think. I still didn't feel at home enough to poke around all the empty rooms and mysterious halls without an escort. But for now, at least, I was more than happy to be in my little space and revel in the change. I stared into the cold ashes of the fireplace, wondering if the day might come when I'd be able to enjoy a cozy fire without hearing and feeling things that weren't there. I pored over the books whose titles I still couldn't read, wondering if a day might come when I would be as cultured and refined as some of the others here. I glanced over the empty surface of the enormous dresser, wondering if a day might come when I'd be so settled and comfortable that it'd be filled with my own books, my own belongings, mementos full of new memories... maybe even an instrument or two, or some little project I'd be in the middle of? I'd always thought of the accumulation of possessions as a human trait, but that clearly wasn't the case. And then I thought of when Demetri had showed me Chelsea and Afton's quarters, and my impression that Aro might be mated to one of the new ladies I had seen in the dining room yesterday... and that opened up a whole new world of possibilities. Would I be alone for the rest of eternity, or might someone come along after all? Despite the relative safety this new world offered, the idea still scared the hell out of me... but now in a curious, pleasant sort of way.

I ran my fingers along the polished wood of the dresser, coming to a stop above the drawer in which I had stashed my meager belongings. I opened it and took out the frayed, rumpled picture of the pilot whose life I had tried and failed to save. When I had kicked my way out of his drowned airplane I had sworn up and down that I would never let my guard down like that again. It was one thing to enjoy the emotional flavors of any human lives I might find myself near, when I knew I wasn't planning on ending any of those lives, but I had let myself get too wrapped up in one individual human for a minute there, and I had paid the price for that mistake in the end. He had paid an even heavier price, and that was exactly why it had been a mistake.

But now... I let myself look again at Steve's face, at the faces of his wife and child. I remembered the tender longing he had shared with me when he had spoken of going back home to his little family. I remembered the hushed stories shared by the sailors on the aircraft carrier as they remembered my victims... how those stories had felt. Foolish as it was, some forgotten part of me wanted to let my scarred heart open again—just a crack, maybe—to stories like that. If I really could be done hunting them, then maybe I _could_ afford to let myself think of them as people again... on a case-by-case basis.

It was a fine idea. There wasn't really much point to it, I supposed, other than appreciating the fiction and biographies I had begun reading since my arrival; I'd be spending the rest of my foreseeable future hidden here underground, poking around in forests for my meals instead of houses. It was unlikely I'd be spending much time around humans at all anymore. But I surprised myself with this new shred of hope, that when I did come across them now and then, maybe I could see them as people instead of potential meals... potential targets. That I could fully enjoy any and all of their positive emotions about their short little lives, blissfully free of the reminder that I wasn't just _other_ , but that I was the villain who had come to end those lives—or worse, if they were _lucky_ enough to be chosen. A monster they'd only met in their nightmares before that moment.

My throat blazed suddenly at the thought. I swallowed reflexively, trying not to remember how glorious the blood had tasted yesterday when I had fed on the young couple in the dining room. I hadn't known it was to be my last real meal, at least for a long time... I squeezed my eyes shut, savoring the memory on my tongue. Which made it worse, naturally. Venom flooded my mouth, burning my parched throat with its acid on the way down. Their blood had been so good, and I hadn't known how important it was to let myself enjoy it, even for those few precious seconds before my gift ruined it all. It had been so sweet, such a flood of relief...

 _Stop_ , I thought harshly. Hadn't I just been telling myself how much better this was going to make everything? I looked down at the picture in my hands again, annoyed to see how my fingers had crumpled it even more when I'd been thinking about the blood. I smoothed it back out and tried to remind myself how nice it would be to leave lives like Steve's untouched, but now all I could think about was the spot on his neck that I'd gone for when the frenzy had hit me. I dropped it back into the drawer and shut it away, returning back to my desk to work on my Italian.

I had trouble focusing. And when I went out to light the torches again and tried to study again, it was even harder. Chelsea had taught me the trick of studying and reading out loud, and so I tried that. It helped, but I was alarmed at how fast my thirst was taking over. It hadn't even been two full days yet, and I'd had two humans _plus_ the wolf. I didn't think it was anything about the animal blood itself; it couldn't be, with all the human blood still in me. It was probably a trick of the mind, some desperate need for the real thing merely because I knew I wasn't going to get it. At least Aro had granted me one final concession, considering the unusual experiment we were embarking on here: when we had parted ways after I tried the wolf, he had promised that I would be allowed to go out into the hills behind the church and feed twice a week, at least at first. I'd be under guard the whole time, and I couldn't honestly look forward to feeding that way again, but at least I knew I'd have blood in just two more days.

It wasn't just the thirst that was wearing on me. My hip still wasn't healing the way it should from the dismemberment several days ago; if anything, it was worse. I examined the skin all the way around; perfect fusion. But a bone-deep ache still plagued me. I was fervently thankful that Caius and Felix were gone, and that my training was on hold; I would find it difficult to participate right now.

After another round of chores and studying, I couldn't deny that something was seriously wrong. The pain was sharpening to a localized burn somewhere deep inside, and my muscles still weren't working right. A suspicion was beginning to itch at the back of my mind. And if my suspicion was correct, something would have to be done about it.

_There are physicians among our kind, after all._

Well, I had the next two hours free. I threaded my way through the stairway and halls, making my way to Amin's quarters. My hip hurt even more by the time I got there; if he couldn't fix me up, I'd be limping soon.

"Jasper," Amin said in pleasant surprise when he answered my knock. "Come in."

I stepped inside, glancing around at the piles of scrolls and books and the twenty-or-so candles that cast everything in a warm, flickering glow. It reminded me of Aro's office, but more organized. The stone walls were softened by hanging art and a few small tapestries.

"I need your help," I admitted sheepishly, rubbing the offending leg. "I think something got stuck in there after the dismemberments the other day."

"The perils of being welcomed," Amin chuckled, unconcerned. He prodded around my leg and hip for minute, asking if anything hurt to the touch, which it didn't. He made me move my leg in different directions, testing its strength compared to the same motions in the other leg.

"It's inside," I reminded him.

"Of course it is inside," he said. A look of wry amusement twisted at his beard. "It's probably just a piece of gravel or something. But if we can determine which muscles remain compromised, I can cut with more precision."

"Cut?"

"What did you expect? I assure you, surgery is more efficient, but it's your leg. Would you rather I just tear the whole thing off again?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. You're the doctor."

"Surgery, then. Cloak off, pants off."

I complied. Amin cleared off a long table and I climbed up, watching warily as he got out a fancy box with gleaming white instruments inside. He rummaged through his options, humming to himself, and then selected three of them. One was a narrow blade that looked much sharper than the one Felix had used.

"Lie down. Left side up, please."

The instant my ear touched the ancient wood, I felt a slicing pain as the knife bit down. I held myself tense and frozen, afraid to move and cause more damage. I'd been damaged and repaired too many times to count, but it was particularly unnerving to lie here, all vulnerable like a human in a hospital tent. I didn't recall having to go under the knife in my human days, but I did remember being more afraid of doctors than anyone else.

"So. Which rumors are true?" Amin asked, carving a little deeper. He had a second tool in his other hand, operating with gusto. Admittedly, it hurt less than the tattoo had. "I've heard that you've been dismissed, that you've risen in favor, that you're feeding on animals now, and that you fought Gustav for the last two humans.

"Just the animal one."

"Ah." A wave of pity. I winced as the knife found a sore spot—surely he'd gone deep enough now? He didn't feel surprised, just mildly curious.

"Are there many vampires who feed on animals? Other Guards?" I asked him. "I'd never heard of that even being an option before."

"Not that I'm aware of. I tried it myself many years ago out of curiosity, but it was foul." He opened his mouth and closed it again, choosing his words with care. "I do not think Aro will force you to suffer it very long. It is a gentle reprimand."

I wanted to set the record straight, but Aro had hinted—in a roundabout sort of way—that it would be better to let the others think it was a punishment. "I think I might be feeding like this for a while," I said vaguely.

"Well, Aro knows what is best," Amin said quickly. "It will be interesting to observe the changes. Ah. Here we are." He dug down once more with his tools, and suddenly a distinct scent was released. Amin stepped back in shock. "Santiago," he said with finality.

"I had a feeling."

We left it at that. Amin dug around on one of his bookshelves and produced a contraption that looked like a tiny hand-held bellows and a glass beaker. From another hiding place he brought out some rubber tubing and attached it to the glass portion. My job was to hold the beaker steady while he worked the bellows with one hand and swept the end of the tube around the wound with the other. The venom was rapidly sucked out, even from the cracks between the torn muscles. It didn't hurt nearly as much as it would if someone had sucked it out by mouth; Aro wasn't kidding about this place being a center for refinement.

Amin noticed my interest in his invention. "I once had a wound that was difficult to reach," he explained, "and I was alone at that time. The pain would not recede, and so I began to experiment."

"You were a nomad? The Volturi didn't create you?"

Amin kept pumping the bellows, trying to get every last drop of venom out. "No, I only joined the Guard recently. The Volturi sent word out in the mid-18th century that they were seeking a physician, so I presented myself and was accepted. I was changed in the 11th century in Persia. I was a student of the great Ibn Sina."

I shook my head, trying to imagine what it must be like to see the 18th century as _recent_. Then I closed my eyes in relief, finally noticing the absence of pain in my leg. The familiar tickling feel of healing was already at work.

"That's much better. I'm grateful."

"So am I," Amin told me with a smile, disconnecting the tube from the beaker. "It isn't often I have the chance to practice my craft." He tossed the tube into the fire, which blazed hungrily at the new addition.

"Except for dislocating people's ribs," I grumbled. He chuckled, completely at ease.

"Yes, except for that. You are learning Italian from Chelsea, correct?" I nodded. "When you are ready for Arabic, I will likely be assigned as your tutor. If you are interested, I will also instruct you in human anatomy. There is very little difference between these bodies and our former ones when it comes to muscle and bone and nerve. Your skill in combat will improve when you can carry a map in your mind."

"I'd like that."

The wound continued to heal itself. Amin nudged the torn layers together now and then, but overall it was just about letting nature take its course. A few drops of my own venom sped things up, but only marginally. I finally sat up halfway, watching the tissues inside my hip knit themselves back together with a cold, simmering rage. It took a certain amount of premeditation to purposefully _hide_ your venom inside someone else's leg. And until now, I hadn't realized the extent of the damage. Were they always this reckless? Had Felix approved this little stunt? And could I trust Amin?

"Look," I said. "I'm new to this whole thing, so I don't know how far these little 'welcomes' tend to go. But isn't this a little much? I'm an empath and I've felt animosity from Santiago... what do you know about this?"

Amin hummed to himself, suddenly very busy with his bookshelf again. He seemed less secretive than some of the others, but it looked like I was still blundering my way into things better left untouched. "There are quarrels," he admitted. "It's the younger Guards, more often, and there are... incidents, occasionally. But this was particularly cruel."

"And you don't think it was a prank? I wondered if Felix—"

"No."

"So this was personal, then."

Amin turned around, slowly polishing the blade he still held in his hand. "If you want my advice, Jasper, you should deal with this, but do it quietly. The Three do not like to be troubled with personal quarrels. And if I am not mistaken, you will not want to draw attention to yourself in any way that isn't exemplary... just now."

He was right; I couldn't afford another strike against me, no matter who had started what. I appreciated Amin's frankness and I told him so. He examined the wound, which was continuing to heal, slowly but surely. "What was that you said about observing changes?" I asked him. "About the animal thing?"

"I cannot be sure, as I have never witnessed it," he said. "But I have heard that the blood of animals dilutes the eyes, turning them a lighter color. I do not know if there are other effects. There was a rumor that it weakens the body, but we will see."

Once the skin had closed over my wound and Amin had tested my strength in all my limbs—for comparison later on, he informed me cheerfully—I was given a clean bill of health. Back in my quarters, I drew close to the mirror and examined my eyes carefully, looking for a change. I didn't see anything, at least not yet.

This wasn't going to be as simple as I'd first thought. I was already indebted to Aro personally, and I'd be on thin ice with Caius once he got back and heard about the incident in the Dining Room. My scars and my dubious past already set me apart from my fellow Guards, and now I was apparently on my way to becoming even more of a laughingstock. I also had an enemy to settle things with. Yet despite all that, and despite the troubling burn in my throat, I still went about my duties with a spring in my step. The newness of possibility made it all worthwhile.


	18. There's a Possibility

**Alice POV (visions in italics)**

* * *

I couldn't _believe_ this.

_"Oh, catch it!" Aro commanded as the wolf broke out of the shed and darted past Jasper's legs. Jasper obeyed instantly, sweeping the wolf up into his arms._

_"I don't understand, Master."_

_"Just try it," Aro said impatiently._

_Jasper looked down at the squirming animal in his arms, then back up at Aro doubtfully, but he did as he was told. He hunched over the wolf and brought its throat up to his teeth. The moment the blood touched his tongue he grimaced, but he kept going. The wolf's whimpers grew weaker and it finally hung limp in his hands. He drank and drank, looking the whole time like he was going to be sick. Finally he dropped the wolf and spewed out the last sip of blood onto the ground._

_Aro clapped his hands in delight. "Marvelous! How was it?"_

My fists clenched helplessly at my sides while I watched. Jasper was disgusted by the blood, naturally, and he had never looked more like a classic vampire: the cloak, the fine clothes, the blood-red eyes and the fresh blood smeared from his lips down to his collar. But his eyes grew wide when Aro proudly announced that this was the solution, that this would set Jasper free from the emotional pain he suffered when he fed on humans. Aro was taking credit for all of it—as if he hadn't been taught by Carlisle! As if he hadn't been minutes away from having Jasper executed a mere _two hours ago._

 _I_ was the one who was supposed to set Jasper free. _I_ was the one who was supposed to teach him about hunting animals, about letting humans live, about everything good that came with golden eyes. That look of grateful awe in his eyes just now was supposed to be for _me_! Not that lying, silky... I screamed between clenched teeth when I saw Jasper eagerly catching up to Aro to give him his hand. I wanted to throw up like a human every time Jasper bowed and scraped and called Aro _Master_. I hadn't worried and waited over twenty years for him to find his freedom just to see him do _this_.

I paced in a tight, angry circle in my little cabin, stabbing into the near future. Jasper had escaped execution—for now. I had seen him die at least three separate times already since he had arrived at his new _home_. I didn't know who had made the decision those first two times. The one with the white hair, Caius, seemed to really hate him, and the sad one—Marcus—never talked, so I didn't really know what he thought of Jasper yet. But earlier today, I had seen Jasper forced to his knees and beheaded with Aro standing _right there_ , wearing that infuriating look of polite sadness. I wanted to tear _his_ head off and burn it. And now he was playing the benevolent leader, eagerly accepting the credit for everything. _Why_ was Jasper falling for this? Didn't that gift of his know better?

I took a deep, calming breath and searched out a little farther. Jasper's eyes would begin to change over the next couple of weeks. That meant he really was going to stop eating humans. Some twisty part of my stomach told me that I should be happy about this, at least. I didn't want Jasper to suffer pain from his gift anymore. All those times I had seen him double over in agony, in despair when he had fed in private... it had broken my heart to see the terror in his eyes this morning when Aro had forced him to try feeding in a group. But surely Aro had known how bad it was going to be! I had heard him describe his powerful gift to Jasper in the beginning. He already knew my Jasper better than I did, and that made me even angrier. Jasper was _mine_.

And now, to see him with half-golden eyes... to see him act calmer and stand straighter and walk around those musty stone halls like he was proud to be there... that was even worse. It was bad when he had been on the knife's edge at first, just as likely to be burned as to be accepted as a Guard, but somehow this felt even worse. To see him so content without me. It _hurt_.

I let the visions run their course a little longer. Jasper was always cooped up in his stone cage except for those brief moments he was allowed out to hunt, and even then he would be under guard. I saw him feeding, studying, spending time with his fellow Guards, working, fighting... I shied away from the fierceness of some of those fights. He was supposed to leave all that violence behind when he left Maria. He might not get executed anytime soon, but he was never safe. He came away from nearly every fight injured, and he looked so _happy_ about it. He looked like he was having the time of his life in that stupid training room.

But then another possibility unfolded. Jasper looked happy in an entirely different way, one that was even worse. It was that Heidi woman. Jasper was alone in a different room with her. It had to be her quarters. He strode toward her with that handsome side-smile of his, and his hands started moving all over her. She pulled him closer, started tugging at his shirt collar. When their passionate kiss began and they stumbled toward the biggest bed I had ever seen in my life, I wrenched myself away from the vision like I had been burned.

.

.

.

"No... no!"

I moaned in despair when my eyes opened to reveal what I had just done. My fingers were clenched around the broken shoulders of a human. It was a young man in a camouflage jacket with a big splash of blood soaking the front of it. I licked my lips without even thinking about it, unable to stop the shiver of pleasure that coursed through me at the heavenly taste. Oh, what did it matter, anyway? He was already dead. Why did anything matter? I bent down for more, gulping the last dredges of hot blood, lapping up the little bit that had spilled down the side of his neck. He ran dry all too quickly. I shook the body in desperation, trying again to get another ounce of blood out of his ruined throat. I finally snapped out of it and lay my victim gently back down on the cold grass. I sat beside him in a tight ball, resting my chin on my drawn-up knees.

I didn't even remember how I had gotten here. I had burst out of the cabin when that horrid vision had struck, and I had run and run... I didn't know where I was. Not that it mattered. I didn't really have anything at the cabin worth going back to.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, looking with pity at the young man whose life I had just ended. Jasper might be doing his best to ruin both our futures, but that didn't give me the right to ruin someone else's. To _end_ someone else... I hugged around my ribs as tight as I could, gasping deep breaths, wishing that Esme were here to comfort me. That Carlisle were here to forgive me. Emmett would tell me it was okay. Rosalie would help me clean up, help me clean myself up. Edward would help me focus my visions and go listen to people's minds to make sure we wouldn't need to move... but they were all so far away. I had to do everything myself, as usual. But I just didn't feel like it. I sat back down beside the body. Despite the thrill of new strength that always came when I messed up and drank human blood, my body felt heavy and disjointed. Was this what it felt like when humans were tired? I let myself roll over and lie down. I closed my eyes, desperate to see something besides the corpse beside me.

Jasper wasn't doing anything right now. He was just standing still in his quarters, deep in thought. I switched to Emmett and Rosalie, but quickly pulled away to give them their privacy. That was the last thing I wanted to watch right now. But Edward was at the piano, so I eagerly focused my attention there. I watched him for a while, listening to the soothing music he was trying to compose. I hummed along once the melody began to take shape, pretending I was perched on the back of the piano. He would scold me to get down and I would just stick my tongue out at him and we would laugh about it together. But his ideas about the melody kept changing, and that made the music stop and start constantly in my vision, even when he wasn't changing what his fingers did yet. The notes kept mashing together at the wrong times. I tried to stay with him, but the dissonance was too distracting. In the end, I was more agitated than before.

At least Carlisle and Esme would be there for me. They were always so calm, so kind... but this was not my day. They were actually arguing, something I rarely saw.

_"I know that," Esme was saying. "But back then you didn't have a family. And bombs weren't falling back then, either. You were never in any danger before."_

_"Our whole world is in danger now. You know how strongly I feel about contributing when—"_

_"Contribute, then! We already gave the proceeds of the house to the Red Cross, and I'm sure we can do far more. What about all that artwork you have stashed away?"_

_"Esme," Carlisle said quietly. "This is important to me."_

_Esme crossed her arms tightly across her belly, looking back and forth around the room at nothing. "So you're doing this for yourself."_

It took me a little to figure out what they were arguing about: Carlisle wanted to go down into mainland Europe and find a way to do his doctor work near where the fighting was, and Esme was _not_ having it. I had no idea how old Carlisle was, but it sounded like he had done this before, in other wars. He was telling Esme how much it meant to him to heal lots of humans in times when so many were dying and suffering, how this was often the time when groundbreaking advancements were made in the field of medicine, how sometimes the most beautiful thing about the human spirit was found in the middle of war.

Esme said that if he was going, all of them were going, and Carlisle wasn't having _that_. Esme also seemed worried that Emmett and Rosalie—and maybe even Edward—might do something reckless if they were anywhere near the war, to which Carlisle insisted that the war was everywhere, to which Esme stubbornly pointed out that he could serve the war effort by replacing doctors who had gone to the front lines, but Carlisle was sure it would be easier to slip under the net identity-wise posing as a civilian doctor helping out in a field hospital, and that was really what he wanted to do anyway. Esme pointed out that real soldiers didn't get to pick where they served. It went on and on.

I hated it when they argued. It was so rare, and they were usually so gentle with each other. It was uncomfortable, even when the way they argued and hurt each other was gentle. But I couldn't stop listening; I needed to know if there was any chance they would be coming back to _this_ continent.

There had been so many times I had wanted to go ahead to the Cullens. Again and again I had decided to do it—to go to them first and then meet Jasper when he was ready. But something always stopped me. Things would look different between Jasper and me in the Family Portrait. Sometimes he wouldn't be in it at all, and Diner Day would be gone. Sometimes I would see us arguing when his eyes were still red. Sometimes I couldn't put my finger on why it was wrong; it just felt wrong. And so every time I decided to let it go and trust my visions... to trust our destiny. Maybe going to the family first would make Jasper feel too intimidated to join us. Maybe he would do it but he would be unhappy. Maybe being with the family meant I would somehow miss my only chance to find him. Waiting was hard, but I wasn't willing to risk our future, or ruin it, just so I could have what I wanted in the present.

But now that future was lost, at least as far as I could see. It felt silly and even cruel to be angry at Jasper, when he couldn't possibly have known what he was giving up, but I was. I had been so lonely, and I had waited _so long_ for him to come to his senses and leave that miserable war, and for what? For him to sign up for the vampire army and leave me here, waiting again? Waiting forever? What was I supposed to do now? For the first time in my life, I hadn't any kind of plan, and it was a frightening new place to be. I had _always_ been able to trust our destiny. Even without ever knowing how many years it was going to take, I had always had that happy ending to hold onto—and it really was a happy _beginning_ , so even the waiting was bearable. What was a decade or two of loneliness compared to an eternity of love and happiness? That future had always felt more real to me than the present anyway.

But now nothing felt real.

A dark thought had been pushing its way into my mind ever since Jasper had gone to Italy. What _was_ real, anyway? My future with Jasper had been the most real thing in my whole life. And in the end, it had been so easily lost, as easily as if the wind had changed direction and it had dissolved in a moment's breeze. It had been that fragile, after all. What else wasn't real, or was no more real than that? How many of my visions weren't going to come true? Were never going to come true in the first place?

It wasn't that I doubted my gift. Little confirmations every day reminded me that I had this unusual power to see things. Thing as small as red tulips around the corner and as big as a second world war. The fact that those visions could change and even disappear didn't mean those futures were any less real, or hadn't been. But the big ones, the ones that had been dropped in my hands to show me my destiny—Jasper's face the minute I had woken up. Diner Day. The Family Portrait. I had never had any tangible confirmation that those things were real, and yet I always clung to them as if everything else was just a mist of lesser possibilities. What if those visions were lost now because they had never been real in the first place? They hadn't come like my smaller visions had come, based on decisions. Maybe they were so different because... I shook my head, unwilling to think it. But it came anyway: maybe I had needed them to be real. Needed something to believe in. Or maybe I was just crazy—I had woken up in a hospital gown, after all. For all I knew, I had lived in a mental asylum all my life. Maybe the fact that some of my visions came true wasn't enough to prove that I hadn't seen exactly what I had needed to see when I had woken up alone and afraid. Maybe I was just remembering a long chain of dreams I had had as a human. Maybe Jasper and my family were just characters in a lovely story I had been telling myself all this time, and the world really was just as cold and gray as it suddenly felt now. I didn't think I could face a world like that.

Carlisle and Esme's argument was winding down. They were full of murmured apologies now for some of the things they had said. They clung to each other and decided together that for now, they would do nothing. Then they stopped talking and just held each other. Esme's face was pressed into Carlisle's shoulder and Carlisle softly, tenderly laid a kiss on her hair...

I realized all at once that I was snuggled up to the corpse, pressing my face into its bloodied shoulder, hugging it tight around the chest. I scrambled away with a whimpering cry, swiping at the half-dried blood that stuck to my face like stubborn tears.

 _Esme_ , I thought desperately. _You have to be real._ _I NEED you to be real._

And then I was running.

.

.

.

I had never bothered to try and figure out exactly where the Cullens' house was. I had never been planning to go to them anytime soon, and I was fairly sure they had sold it before they had headed to South America two years ago. I just knew that it was in Washington state and that they had driven east every time they went to Seattle.

I crossed into Washington in less than four hours. Anger coursed through me when I realized how close they had been—how easy it would have been to go before. If I had had just a little more courage, I could have trusted that I would still find a way to make everything right with Jasper anyway, even if it meant just visiting them once. _Why_ hadn't I done it?

I found a little building that said "Welcome Center" and broke into it around midnight. A long rack full of little folded maps stood ready, but it was easy enough to memorize the big, detailed map on the wall above that. I remembered the word "Hoquiam" ... maybe that was where they had lived. But "Forks" and "La Push" sounded familiar too. Maybe the landmarks would be familiar enough that I would be able to find their house.

But after hours of wandering in the dark near Hoquiam, I hadn't found anything. A few things in town looked familiar, and the mountain peak in the distance seemed right, but that was it. Everything beyond the town looked the same: trees, trees, and more trees. I went up to Forks, but it was a dinky little town; it had been written on the big map with a black pen like an afterthought. Maybe it was new. I poked around the woods there for a while and then headed for La Push, which stood right on the edge by the ocean. Those houses looked completely unfamiliar. I was sure I hadn't seen the Cullens here at all. There was an odd smell at one end of the sleepy little town, one that made the hair rise up on the back of my neck.

I went all the way to the beach and sat down heavily on the sand, wrapping my arms around my knees. I thought I remembered seeing Emmett and Edward here once, but I was tired of hoping. None of it made sense anymore.

The waves lapped at my toes for a while. My fingers played idly with the sand, digging little trenches over and over. I watched as they filled back up and disappeared, and that made me angry, too. Losing my most important visions might have been bearable if something had at least taken their place. Wasn't the whole point of destiny to tell you what you were supposed to do, or at least what you were supposed to look forward to? I looked into my own future, and for once, I couldn't find anything. There were distant possibilities, too blurry to be of any use, but my gift had never felt so unimportant, so utterly useless. I couldn't even find myself in the near future. I didn't know what that meant either, and I didn't care anymore.

The sun was rising behind me now. Far down the length of the beach, I could see two young men doing something with a boat. I wrinkled my nose; that odd smell was here too. I hadn't noticed it before...

The wind changed, bringing me relief from the smell, if nothing else. But down the beach, the two men jumped to their feet suddenly. I supposed it was time for me to go, now that the town was waking up. I didn't feel up to playing human right now. I wasn't any good at it anyway, not like the Cullens.

"Hey!" one of the men shouted. They started running toward me, peeling off their shirts as they ran. I didn't remember seeing humans run that fast before. Then all at once both of them _exploded_ and in their place were two enormous wolves, one black and one reddish-brown, snapping and snarling. _Werewolves_ , I realized in the instant it took me to realize that they were coming for _me_!

I scrambled off the beach in a flash, and they followed me. The smell was everywhere now, and when I grabbed for my future to see which way to run, _everything_ was gone. It was all pitch black without a sense of time; I had no future at all. That could only mean one thing, and I ran even faster when I realized, with a shocking blow, that _this_ must be why my destiny had been fading away. I was going to die, right here. I had reached the end of all my visions. Whether or not Jasper and the Cullens had ever been real didn't matter anymore, because I was never going to be real to _them_. This was it. I could hear the wolves closing on me with every pounding footfall behind me; I was just too small to outrun them.

I thought about stopping. I had waited all my life for nothing, as it turned out. Why fight it? I glanced over my shoulder to see my fate, but the sharp teeth I saw pushed me to keep running. I had never felt pain before—and I wasn't even sure that vampires could feel pain—but something told me that this would be an exception.

One of the wolves was so close that I could see him out the corner of my eye. I gasped and veered left. Just a few more hundred feet—!

I lunged for the first tree I saw. In the split second before I could begin climbing, I screamed and kicked at a searing pain that tore down the back of my leg. I twisted around to find the big gray wolf struggling to get his teeth around my ankle, but the sharp teeth squealed and skidded across my skin after the first bite. The wolf let go with a yelp when I kicked its nose as hard as I could. I raced up as high as the spindly branches would support me, looking around wildly to find another tree to jump to. I had picked one that was too far from the others. Both wolves were circling the base of my tree now. They let out a horrible sound that hurt my ears, and to my horror, I heard a third howl answering from the trees ahead. More pounding footsteps were coming, padded ones that matched the sound of when these wolves had been chasing me.

The other two began tearing at the bark of my tree, ripping huge chunks out with their gleaming teeth. They were trying to fell the tree like a man with an ax. I didn't know much about werewolves, but some deep part of me felt surprised that they were smart enough to do that—at least in the few stories I had read, werewolves were like rabid animals when they weren't in their human form. But these wolves knew exactly what they were doing.

When the third wolf ran up, it took a running leap up into my tree. It didn't aim very high, but the tree shook and creaked as its body hit. The new wolf backed up and lunged at the tree again, taking the blow on its shoulder. The tree trembled again and again. The other two wolves were chewing their way through on opposite sides now, creating a pivot point.

" _Stop_!" I screamed at them, latching on again as the tree swung dangerously to one side. I heard a cracking sound. "I was just trying to leave! I don't know if you can understand anything, but I'm not your enemy! My name is Alice Cullen and I promise I'll just _leave_!"

I don't know why I said it. I had played with my name for years, drawing it in curly loops in the sand and the dirt and on fogged-up windows. I would have used Jasper's last name, but I had never heard him speak it. Was Alice really my name after all, I wondered angrily as I shouted my name for the first time ever. Maybe I just needed to say it out loud once before I died. To make _myself_ a little more real.

But to my surprise, the wolves instantly stopped what they were doing. They all looked at one another, then back up at me, then at one another again. I took my chance to jump toward the nearest bunch of trees, pushing off so hard that the tree finally gave away and tumbled down behind me just as I jumped up into the branches ahead. The wolves snarled and began the chase again, but there was no way I was going to come back down to the ground now. I jumped from branch to branch, careful to map my path ahead so I wouldn't run out of trees. It felt strangely exhilarating to do this without my visions, not knowing if I would misstep and die any second. I slowed down, keeping to the tallest trees within reach. I didn't _think_ they could climb...

Then all at once, like they had hit a glass wall, the wolves stopped running. I snapped around to look, just in time to see one of the wolves inch a step forward, but the biggest wolf turned and snarled, and the smaller wolf froze where it was.

I didn't stop to find out what had happened. I kept jumping my way through the thickest parts of the forest. My path took me southeast, right past Hoquiam. I turned due east then—if I could get to Seattle, surely I would be safe. My future began to fizzle back into existence and I moaned a sigh of relief.

And then I saw it.

I slipped down through the branches and landed in a defensive crouch, looking and listening behind, but there was no sign of the wolves. My visions felt right again; I was still alive as far as I could stretch to see. But more importantly, right in front of me stood the most beautiful sight I had ever seen in person: a broken-down timber cottage, so crumbled down to nothing I had almost missed it. But I knew this place. This was Rosalie and Emmett's honeymoon cottage.

They had already been married for the better part of a year when the Cullens had moved here, but their lovemaking had still been... destructively enthusiastic. And they had wanted a lot of time to themselves, so they had gladly set up house in this little haven while the others, with no small amount of relief, had moved into the main house. I zipped right past the cottage, careful to note my path so I wouldn't lose it again. I found the main house soon enough, though I had to stay hidden in the trees; there were humans living here now. My throat burned as I watched the lady and her two little children make their way out to the blue car that sat in the driveway. But a dizzying happiness chased away the thirst because as the lady stepped off the porch, I realized I was seeing the porch that Edward and Carlisle had built. I could tell, even from here, that the wood was newer than the rest of the house. The porch wrapped around the side of the house, expanding into the deck that Esme had worked on, day after day, while the others went to work and school.

It was real! They were real! A funny little sound burst out of me, that human sound that was half-laugh, half-cry. The lady and her children turned around, suddenly nervous, to see what the sound was, but I was already running back toward the cottage. I found traces of the old path that Rosalie and Emmett had walked hundreds of times, and I sailed along it, feeling like my feet were barely touching the ground. They were _real_!

I inspected the dilapidated cottage at every angle, warmed by memory after memory. Edward and Emmett working on the shutters, Esme planting little secrets that would bloom for the newlyweds in the coming months, Emmett and Rosalie painting the walls and the paint fight–turned–honeymoon that had followed. I had always thought it so funny that Emmett couldn't quite stand up straight in his own bedroom. Not that it mattered for long; uninhibited in their privacy, the poor cottage hadn't stood a chance. I laughed out loud when I remembered their shocked laughter the first time they had smashed a hole in the wall separating their bedroom from the tiny living room. The scandalized look on Edward's face the first time he had come to "visit." The look on Esme's face when they sheepishly announced they would have to move back into the main house... Oh, it was all _real_!

I picked through the wreckage, eager to find some tangible memory. Anything would do. I just needed something to hold in my hands... I anxiously looked ahead and saw myself unearthing a little box. Of course!

I darted around the cottage to the little garden and attacked the frozen dirt with gusto. A few inches down, I was rewarded by a familiar sight: the jewelry box that Rosalie and Emmett had buried here together on the day they had moved away. Rosalie had called it a time capsule, something for them to come and find someday so they could feel like time had passed. I gently brushed the grime away from the intricately embossed bronze, running my fingers through the swirls and designs in the cold metal, relishing in the realness of it. I carefully tested the lid, but she must have locked it.

"Sorry," I said absently, and I pried the lock apart. I was done following the rules.

Inside were all the keepsakes I remembered; not one of them was a stranger to me. A few of Emmett's favorite baseball cards. The glittering comb Rosalie had worn on their wedding day. A knotted bracelet Emmett had made, two matching theatre tickets, a photograph of the happy couple taken in the city one cloudy day. And a ring. I picked it up, letting the morning light catch the tiny rubies on either side of the diamond. This was the ring Edward had taken out of his stash and given to Emmett to propose to Rosalie with, since he couldn't be around humans yet. Rosalie had later gotten a new, much more fancy diamond ring that matched their wedding rings, but this one was still special. And in a way, it belonged to Edward as well as her and Emmett, so why shouldn't I have a share too?

I slipped the ring onto my finger, but of course it hung loose. I jammed it into my pocket, glad I had stolen some pants this time around. I rummaged through the rest of the memories in the jewelry box, ending with a delicately embroidered handkerchief. The letters _RLH_ were spelled out in curling flower stems. Each letter ended in a tiny red rose. When I unfolded it, a sweet scent bloomed in the air: Rosalie, surely. I held the handkerchief close, memorizing the scent, and then I leaned down with my nose to the jewelry box, smiling when I smelled just a hint of someone else. Emmett! I hadn't ever smelled another vampire—at least that I knew of—but somehow I was sure that these two scents belonged to my brother and sister. They felt like home.

They were _real_.

And surely that meant Jasper was real.

I wasn't crazy. These people led real lives, and the things I had seen had really happened. The warm shock of my relief told me how seriously I had taken my fear, how close I had come to losing my faith... in what? Destiny? Maybe the people were real and the destiny wasn't. Or maybe this was just one stumbling step, and everything would be all right in the end. I closed my eyes and reached forward for Diner Day, just in case, but it was still gone.

I gently placed everything but the ring back into the jewelry box and buried it again. I spent the morning there, still poking through the wreckage. I found no more hints that they had lived here other than the faded color of the paint that still clung to some parts of the decaying wallboard.

The sky grew darker, even though it was midday. My happy mood faded with the light. My new reassurance did nothing to solve my problems. Everyone I loved was so far away, on the other side of the world, and I didn't know the first thing about really _traveling_ or about playing human to that degree. The dreary weather felt right, at least; the Cullens always lived in wet, cloudy places so they could be human more of the time. When the rain began to fall softly, I turned up my face and relished the feel of the warm raindrops washing down my face. I hadn't bathed in weeks. I hadn't even thought of it since Jasper had gotten to Italy and I had been so afraid for his life. My visions centered on him without my even thinking about it.

_He was bathing, too, washing his face and hands out of the basin in his room. He was already clean except for the little bit of blood he had gotten on himself and his shirt drinking from the wolf. His hair tumbled down from its ponytail and he ran his dripping hands through it over and over. He stripped off the ruined shirt and checked in the mirror, making sure all the blood was cleaned off before getting a new one._

I watched him for a while. For once, I was too relieved to be angry. I just ached for him—for him to be so real I could reach out and touch the scarred skin of his back. I closed my eyes, imagining myself laying my fingers in the big gashes that sliced all the way down to his hip. In my imagination he would see me in the mirror—or maybe he would have felt my touch—and he would turn around, smiling down at me in pleasant surprise. He would pick me up and spin slowly around in a dance, twirling with me in the dark back room of his quarters. And then he would stop and lower me slowly to settle in his arms, tight against his chest. He would kiss me, and I would reach up and tangle my fingers in his golden hair, and everything would finally be right in the world.

I concentrated as hard as I could, willing it to be a vision and not just pretend. But it wasn't real. I opened my eyes and found myself still sitting in the wreckage of the cottage, still soaked with the falling rain, still alone.


End file.
